Lyrics The Legend

You heard 'bout the legend of Jesse James, an' John Henery just to mention some
names.
Well there's a truck drivin' legend in the south today.
A man
called Bandit, from Atlanta, Gee-A
Every gear jammer knows his name.
They
swear he got ice blood runin' in his veins.
A foot like lead, and nerves
like steel.
He's gonna go to glory ridin' an 18-wheel.

Oh,
boy!

He left Atlanta back in '63.
Haulin' him a load up to
Tennessee.
He hit Mount Eagle in a drivin' rain,
so hard he couldn't even
see the passing lane.
Well he started down the grade when he lost a
gear.
He hit them breaks and found he had no air.
The Mount Eagle grade
is steep and long,
and everybody that seen it thought the Bandit was
gone.

Oh Son!

Well his truck jack-knifed, turned completly
round,
he was coming down backwards 'bout the speed of sound.
Alot of
folks seen him, and they all say
he had his head out the window yelling,
"Clear the way!"

Well he got to the bottom, safe and sound,
and
everybody asked Bandit how he made it down.
He said folks when the truck
picked up too much speed I just runned along beside it and drug my
feet.

You heard the legend of Jesse James, an' John Henery just to
mention some names.
Well there's a truck drivin' legend in the south
today.
A man called Bandit, from Atlanta, Gee-A
Every gear jammer knows
his name.
They swear he's got ice blood runin' in his veins.
A foot like
lead, and nerves like steel.
He's going up to glory ridin' an
18-wheel.

Oh tell 'em!

Talk to me Guitar.