Brand New '64 Dodge

Money comes out of Dad's billfold.

Hankies come out of Mom's purse.

The engine hardly makes a sound

even when you put it in reverse.

It's got a push-button transmission, hardtop convertible, 4-door.

It's November of '63

and the brand new Dodge is a '64.

And we're rolling slow down Main Street -

the asphalt and gravel crunch.

Church is finally over

and we're going to have our Sunday lunch.

And then I will play football

with my buddies down in park.

Later I'll dream about my girlfriend

as I lie alone in the dark.

She's got short red hair and blue eyes

and her swimsuit's also blue

and her little brother is retarded,

but Jesus loves him, too.

And Jesus loves our president,

even though he is a Catholic.

There's a lot for a boy to think about

as he walks along the railroad tracks.

And my sister won't get carsick

'cause we're going only half a mile

and the car still has that new car smell

and dad looks like he might smile

and the world is big and full of Autumn

and I'm hungry as can be

and we're in our brand new '64 Dodge

November of '63