C.W. McCall - Wolf Creek Pass, аккорды

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Me an' Earl was haulin' chickens on a flatbed out of Wiggins 
                    
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And we'd spent all night on the uphill side of thirty-seven miles  
                
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of hell called Wolf Creek Pass. Which is up on the Great Divide 
        
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We was settin' there suckin' toothpicks, drinkin' Nehi 
and onion soup mix 
              
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and I said, "Earl, let's mail a card to Mother then send them 
chickens  
                   
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on down the other side. Yeah, let's give 'em a ride."  
 
Chorus:
 
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Wolf Creek Pass,  
        
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way up on the Great Divide 
             
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G/F#
 
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Truckin' on down the other side  
 
Well, Earl put down his bottle, mashed his foot down 
on the throttle 
and then a couple'a boobs with a thousand cubes 
in a nineteen-forty-eight  
Peterbilt screamed to life. We woke up the chickens 
 
Well, we roared up offa that shoulder sprayin' pine cones, 
rocks, and boulders 
and put four hundred head of them Rhode Island Reds 
and a couple a' burnt-out roosters  
on the line. Look out below; 'cause here we go 
 
Chorus 
 
Well, we commenced to truckin' and them hens commenced to cluckin' 
and then Earl took out a match and scratched his pants 
and lit up the unused half  
of a dollar cigar and took a puff. Says "My, ain't 
this purdy up here."  
 
I says, "Earl, this hill can spill us. You better slow down 
or you gonna kill us 
Just make one mistake and it's the Pearly Gates 
for them eight-five crates a'  
USDA-approved cluckers. You wanna hit second?"  

Chorus 
  
Well, Earl grabbed on the shifter and he stabbed her 
into fifth gear  
and then the chromium-plated, fully-illuminated genuine 
accessory shift knob  
come right off in his hand. I says, "You wanna screw 
that thing back on, Earl?"  
 
He was tryin' to thread it on there when the fire fell 
off a' his cigar and dropped on down 
sorta rolled around, and then lit in the cuff of Earl's 
pants and burned a hole in his sock 
Yeah, sorta set him right on fire  
 
Bridge: 
   
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I looked on outta the window and I started countin' phone poles 
       
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goin' by at the rate of four to the seventh power 
            
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Well I put two and two together 
           
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and added twelve and carried five; come up with twenty-two 
                                
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thousand telephone poles an hour 
 

I looked at Earl and his eyes was wide, his lip was curled, 
and his leg was fried 
And his hand was froze to the wheel like a tongue to a sled 
in the middle of a blizzard 
 
I says, "Earl, I'm not the type to complain; but the time 
has come for me to explain  
that if you don't apply some brake real soon, they're gonna 
have to pick us up with a  
stick and a spoon." 
 
Well, Earl rared back, and cocked his leg, stepped as down 
as hard as he could on the brake 
and the pedal went clear to the floor and stayed there, 
right there on the floor 
He said it was sorta like steppin' on a plum 
 
Well, from there on down it just wasn't real purdy: 
it was hairpin county and switchback city 
One of 'em looked like a can full'a worms; another one 
looked like malaria germs 
 
Right in the middle of the whole damn show was a real 
nice tunnel, now wouldn't you know 
Sign says clearance to the twelve-foot line, but the 
chickens was stacked to thirteen-nine 
 
Well we shot that tunnel at a hundred-and-ten, like gas 
through a funnel and eggs through a hen 
and we took that top row of chickens off slicker than scum 
off a Lousiana swamp 
 
Went down and around and around and down 'til we run outta 
ground at the edge of town 
Bashed into the side of the feed store... in downtown 
Pagosa Springs  
 
Chorus