‘Twas Spring Carlisle Saturday
‘Twas Spring Carlisle Saturday, in my wife’s SUV;
We’re five cooped-up car guys who yearn to be free.
With no car shows or cruise-ins and nothing to do,
We’ve been stuck in the house the long winter thru.
My buddys are buckled all snug in their places
With doughnuts and coffee and smiles on their faces.
We left real early to be the first thru the gate
And so I can find parking in the same state.
Out on the highway we pass car after car
Heading for Carlisle from near and from far.
They’re real car guys from the look on their faces
To start the new season, they’re off to the races.
Traffic’s light as we approach the fairground
And we a find parking space without driving around.
For only ten dollars we park on somebody’s lawn;
Toward car guy heaven we’re inexorably drawn.
Adrenaline kicks in as we walk thru the gates,
‘Cause we know up ahead that treasure awaits.
First stop, however, after the doughnuts and coffee,
Is getting in line for a much needed pee.
Old stuff and new stuff and good stuff and crap,
A cornucopia of car stuff for us is on tap.
We check every vendor, leave nothing to chance,
They’ve got tools from China, even used Levi pants.
When we’re hungry only something greasy will do
Like buns piled high with pork bar-b-que
Or fresh cut french fries or sausage and peppers;
A regular bonanza of tasty vein cloggers.
If your daughter’s boyfriend wants an old car
Something kinda retro that won’t take him too far
On Carlisle’s fairgrounds, you’ll find it all there,
Like a cute little Pinto or maybe Corvair
There’s acres and acres of all kinds of things
To tickle your fancy and loosen purse-strings
Cars parked side-by-side up and down a big hill
You’re sure to find something to give you a thrill.
To recapture my youth I seek a sixty-two Valiant
With a hyper-pak four-barrel slant six powerplant.
I can’t find one this year but my faith isn’t shaken
I know my dream Mopar will be here next season.
Carlisle’s not Scottsdale, it’s not Barrett-Jackson
But they do have the Spring Collector Car Auction
Under strict orders from home not even to try
I better not bid on anything, let alone buy.
We drool over good stuff at the Car Corral ramada,
Like a low mile sixty-three Super Sport Impala
Next to a fifty-nine Cadillac Coupe DeVille’s fins
And a set of sixty-seven Cobra replicar twins
After tromping the rows from A thru triple-Z
We’ve seen only a small part of what’s there to see.
With only time for a pit stop and a bottle of water;
It’s getting late and we have a long walk to the car.
Chevy guys or Ford guys or guys who love Mopars
All dream of finding neat stuff for our cars.
But If you’re serious or just killing time for a while,
Something for everyone’s to be found at Carlisle.
‘Twas Spring Carlisle Saturday, in my wife’s SUV;
We’re five cooped-up car guys who yearn to be free.
With no car shows or cruise-ins and nothing to do,
We’ve been stuck in the house the long winter thru.
My buddys are buckled all snug in their places
With doughnuts and coffee and smiles on their faces.
We left real early to be the first thru the gate
And so I can find parking in the same state.
Out on the highway we pass car after car
Heading for Carlisle from near and from far.
They’re real car guys from the look on their faces
To start the new season, they’re off to the races.
Traffic’s light as we approach the fairground
And we a find parking space without driving around.
For only ten dollars we park on somebody’s lawn;
Toward car guy heaven we’re inexorably drawn.
Adrenaline kicks in as we walk thru the gates,
‘Cause we know up ahead that treasure awaits.
First stop, however, after the doughnuts and coffee,
Is getting in line for a much needed pee.
Old stuff and new stuff and good stuff and crap,
A cornucopia of car stuff for us is on tap.
We check every vendor, leave nothing to chance,
They’ve got tools from China, even used Levi pants.
When we’re hungry only something greasy will do
Like buns piled high with pork bar-b-que
Or fresh cut french fries or sausage and peppers;
A regular bonanza of tasty vein cloggers.
If your daughter’s boyfriend wants an old car
Something kinda retro that won’t take him too far
On Carlisle’s fairgrounds, you’ll find it all there,
Like a cute little Pinto or maybe Corvair
There’s acres and acres of all kinds of things
To tickle your fancy and loosen purse-strings
Cars parked side-by-side up and down a big hill
You’re sure to find something to give you a thrill.
To recapture my youth I seek a sixty-two Valiant
With a hyper-pak four-barrel slant six powerplant.
I can’t find one this year but my faith isn’t shaken
I know my dream Mopar will be here next season.
Carlisle’s not Scottsdale, it’s not Barrett-Jackson
But they do have the Spring Collector Car Auction
Under strict orders from home not even to try
I better not bid on anything, let alone buy.
We drool over good stuff at the Car Corral ramada,
Like a low mile sixty-three Super Sport Impala
Next to a fifty-nine Cadillac Coupe DeVille’s fins
And a set of sixty-seven Cobra replicar twins
After tromping the rows from A thru triple-Z
We’ve seen only a small part of what’s there to see.
With only time for a pit stop and a bottle of water;
It’s getting late and we have a long walk to the car.
Chevy guys or Ford guys or guys who love Mopars
All dream of finding neat stuff for our cars.
But If you’re serious or just killing time for a while,
Something for everyone’s to be found at Carlisle.
