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letra de fireball rolled a seven - dave dudley

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somewhere in south carolina near a dirt track there’s a shrine
erected to the memory of a little ‘ole friend of mine
a natural born dirt dauber, car racing was his game
he rolled ‘ole number 7 fireball was his name

with the makings of a honker and a roll of bailing wire
he tied his hopes together and just set them tracks on fire
three hundred fifty on the hood; a big 7 on each door
in his heart a will to win and his right foot on the floor

his motto was a simple one “stand on it and turn left.
if someone’s gonna beat you make him run”
all he knew was ???? and always lead the rest
fireball rolled a seven and he won.

he took the world 600, the old atlanta 5
bristol, richmond, nashville, daytona for the ride
the hotdogs laid it on him. they’d draft, chart, and sweat.
but fireball rolled a seven, the kind that’s hard to get.

he had the pole at darlington; he won it off the rail.
and he run away at charlotte, 600 miles of h-ll.
a slingshot sewed up petty; he was out in front real fast.
a checkered flag was in the bag; n-body would get past.

he was flat out in that back shoot; only 3 laps from the start.
when he saw a yellow b-mper cross up and come apart.
a rookie and a shaker, runnin’ scared and lost it all.
a hush fell on that crowd; number 7 took the wall.

his old skidlid hangs in the hall, the little chargers gone,
to save a friend he laid it on the line.
his old poncho is rust and bound, but his memory still lives on.
fireball rolled a seven every time.
fireball rolled a seven every time.

- dave dudley

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