Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
Tom Paxton
The summer sun was beating down
Oh pity would it show
George Chester's office air conditioner
Would no longer go
As pools of sweat rolled off his brow
He had one reverie
He saw himself with his wife and kids
In his cottage by the sea
He paid for his car at the parking lot
Which gave the poor man chills
The attendant laughed and walked away
Thumbing a roll of bills
He started his engine with trembling hands
At the end of a long, hard day
And placing himself in the hands of God
He drove to the long freeway
The traffic stretched far as the eye can see
As bumper to bumper they sped
They drove at supernatural speeds
Which filled his heart with dread
Sometimes they stopped for an hour or more
And a thousand horns would blow
George Chester's eyes rolled back in his head
And his poor brain started to go
He came at last to the turnpike gate
And he laid his money down
He took the fist turn to the right
And he followed the curve around
He took each bend of the clover leaf
He followed every sign
And when he came back to the same toll gate
He gave them another dime
His hands were tight on the steering wheel
His lips and throat were dry
He swore by all that he held dear
He'd make it through or die
He took the first turn to the right
The clover leaf to go through
He was quite sure of his success
Till the toll gate rose in view
And now they say when the moon is full
And the clover leaf is still
The sound of an engine can be heard
Laboring up the hill
A dime drops in the toll machine
In the cool of a summer's night
And eternally that poor car
Takes the first turn to the right