Dave Dudley - Fireball Rolled A Seven Lyrics
Somewhere in South Carolina near a dirt track there's a shrineErected to the memory of a little ‘ole friend of mineA natural born dirt dauber, car racing was his gameHe rolled ‘ole number 7 Fireball was his nameWith the makings of a honker and a roll of bailing wireHe tied his hopes together and just set them tracks on fireThree hundred fifty on the hood; a big 7 on each doorIn his heart a will to win and his right foot on the floorHis 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 restFireball rolled a seven and he won.He took the world 600, the old Atlanta 5Bristol, Richmond, Nashville, Daytona for the rideThe 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 Hell.A slingshot sewed up Petty; he was out in front real fast.A checkered flag was in the bag; nobody would get past.He was flat out in that back shoot; only 3 laps from the start.When he saw a yellow bumper 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.
