Mah Truck

Ah change the earl in ‘Lucy’ twahce a yerr
‘Bout fiddy miles west o’ Ballyhoo.
Ah dunno what direkshunnals are fer;
Ah been rear-ended hard a tahme or two.

Mah pap, he sez “yer bound to blow a flat”;
Ah check duh air lak he done toll me to.
Mah maw, she kinnit drahve, she’s too durn fat.
She rahdes in back with our mutt-hound, Baloo.

Ah warsh mah Lucy-gal with hawg-fat soap
a-glist’nin in duh murnin’s early sun
Yuh might suppose ah’d rinse with wahter. Nope!
Ah use mah baby’s dah-pers, one bah one.

It ain’t duh fanc’iest truck ya ever seen
But next ta me ’n maw, it’s purdy clean!