(Gillian WelchDavid Rawlings)

Mr. Smith had an oldsmobile

Baby blue with them wire wheels

I took her home the day that she was adverstised

He said she leaked when, it would rain

And sounded like an aeroplane

But I knew she was a jewel in disguise

She had a 455 Rocket

The biggest block alive

I couldn't hardly wait just to take my turn

She was made for the straight aways

She grew up hating Chevrolets

She's a Rocket, she was made to burn

Whose junkpile piece of Chevelle is this?

You boys come here to race or just kiss?

Don't you wanna know what I got underneath my hood?

I know she might sound like she's missing

But buddy, she could teach you a lesson

In just a quater mile, and I'll smoke you good

In my 455 Rocket

The kind the police drive

I couldn't hardly wait just to take my turn

She was made for the straight aways

She grew up hating Chevrolets

She's a Rocket, she was made to burn

I'm telling you and I ain't ashamed

I cried when that wrecker came

As we skid I thought I heard the angels sing (sounded like the Beach Boys)

We hit the curve and began to sail

Took out most of the safety rail

Even the cop asked me