[Verse 1: Howling surf-rock male lead, surf-rock howled lead, fast pounding drums] County fair in August and the dirt's laid down Hay bales on the corners and the whole east side of town Twelve laps, blades off, and the flag's in the stand Riding mower races, best day in the land I got a fifteen horse, she's green and she's old Bought her at a sale when the widow's house sold Seat's got a split and the steering wheel's bent Grass bag on the back full of last week's cut Trent from the dealer brought a turbo rig in Stripped to the frame with a chrome grin He pointed at my bag and the grandstand roared Said get the trash off, Bucky, you're dragging the board [Hook: Howling surf-rock male lead, full band, wet reverb guitar riff] Cut it close, baby, on the corner post Shave the bales where the dust blows most He can have the straight, I'll take the turn Cut it close and watch him burn [Verse 2: Howling surf-rock male lead, harder surf-rock howled lead, driving bass] Flag drops down and the turbo goes gone Down the straight like a wasp with a horn But the first turn comes and his back end swings Dirt in the air and he's spinning in rings Me and my bag going steady and low Back wheels down where I want 'em to go Second lap, third lap, same old song He's fast on the straight and he's wrong all along Lap nine, he's a wreck with his chrome in the hay Lap ten, he's back up and he's trying to pray Lap eleven, he passes, I can hear him laugh Lap twelve, there's a turn, and he spins in half [Hook: Howling surf-rock male lead, full band, wet reverb guitar riff] Cut it close, baby, on the corner post Shave the bales where the dust blows most He can have the straight, I'll take the turn Cut it close and watch him burn [Breakdown: Howling surf-rock male lead, passing guitar, a second wet surf guitar passes the first lick by lick] That bag full of clippings from my own front yard Kept my wheels in the dirt when the turns got hard Took the flag by a foot with the bales on my sleeve Trent in the hay bale and he won't believe Weight in the back, that's the trick, old son Grass bag, baby, is the reason I won [Final Hook: Howling surf-rock male lead, two guitars racing, fast pounding drums, raw full voice] Cut it close, baby, on the corner post Shave the bales where the dust blows most He can have the straight, I'll take the turn Cut it close and watch him burn [End]
