“Big K”

“Big K” Gather round you cats I want you td hear, The story of a real Brave Buccaneer.

Big K was the rodders name, In his little blue Volkswagen he rode to fame. He broke all records in his “wild” machine, Cause competition quit when he made the scene. The car was of a foreign design, The trophies he had numbered 10-9. Timer called K at about half-past eight, And he kissed his girl at the drag pit gate, Strapped himself in and fixed his gloves on his hands. Said, “This is my trip to the promised land.” The little Volkswagen with an 85 hp mill, Took "the K” to heaven, and he’s famous still. The fans all knew by the small tires’ squeal, That the “Big K” was at the wheel. He wound it out to 3 thousand Withe poor little clutch about to bust its housin. The “K” says, "VW, now don’t fret, We’re still here, and I ain’t give yet.” “I’m going to drive you till the engine blows, The tires give out, and the rear end goes.” It was about here that gloom came in sight, His tires were so slick they were getting no bite, The engine got rugged, the transmission was goin, The pace sorta quickened, but the strain was a’showin. Poor "Big K” roared past the pit, He said, “If I quit now I’ve had it.” Blowers, injectors and all sorts of B°> Are not apart from any dragging show. Tales that are honest, small but grand, Belong to “Big K”, the Volkswagen man. —Eugene Burke