Her daddy liked Chryslers, that’s all he would buy.
Drove an old Dodge truck, bought new in 55.
Her momma drove a New Yorker. Blue with a black vinyl top.
When my gal turned sixteen, she asked for her very own car.
But he said no to a Mustang. No to a hot Cougar cat.
“No way”, to a Thunderbird, or a blue Corvette.
So she asked for a Barracuda.
Got a fabulous Fury instead.
She got a Plymouth. 1966.
Had a three eighteen.
Automatic column shift.
It was a light tan, four-door, ferryboat, he said keep it slick.
The highway was our ocean; dirt roads were our rough seas.
The old hometown streets were whatever we pleased.
She knew how to drive that Plymouth. Got the wind in its sails.
Always took this shipman, to my favorite shores.
She drove a Plymouth. 1966.
Had a three eighteen,
It was a light tan, four-door ferryboat. I helped keep it slack.
A new guy came to town in a big yellow Cadillac.
I didn’t even own a car, how could I compete with that.
But I put up a mighty good fight; her daddy was on my side.
? (INSTRUMENTAL.) ?
They ran off and got married, way out in Oklahoma.
I don’t know if she ever looked back.
But one good thing about it, Her daddy never, let her take that Car.
I bought her Plymouth. That old 1966.
It’s got a 318, automatic column shift.
It’s a light tan, four-door, ferryboat, I Still keep it Slick.
Still cruisin’ in her Plymouth. That sweet smellin’ Plymouth.
Fabulous fury, ferryboat,
It’s a car I’ll never sale.
I named it Barbara Gail,
Always gives me sweet dreams, never does fail,
Still cruising in her Plymouth, That sweet smelling Plymouth.
Fabulous fury, ferryboat, still love her Plymouth,
Yea.
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