| Lyrics: | (bill fries, chip davis)
Well, interstate 80, we was cuttin' the fog
Just me an' old
sloan (old sloan's my dog)
We had an eighteen-wheeler with ten on the floor and stereo layin' a
strip
Now we spied a sign, says "eat gas now"
We decided to whip in and pick up some
chow
At the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe
[chorus]
Oh, the old
home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
(a-lookin' for mavis)
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe
Now we've
been every place between here and south sioux
And we've seen us a truck-stop waitress or
two
But this gal's built like a burlap bag full of bobcats:
She's got it
to-gether
Well, she filled my tank; i said "thank you, honey."
Her name was mavis, i
gave her the money
Old sloan just set there, watchin' and waggin' and wishin'.
I says, "you
wait in the truck, boy."
Then i went inside. she says, "what'll it be?"
I says "a cup
of your best and a number three."
She come back with an order to go and a quart of hot c and a
bone for sloan.
I said, "much obliged"; old sloan gave a bark
I left her a buck and he left
his heart
At the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe
[chorus]
Oh, the
old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on
a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe
Well, saturday night
we was truckin' along
Yeah, me and old sloan was a-gettin' it on
I said, "sloan, i've been
thinkin' on a-gettin' up my courage, and tonight's the night"
Well, |
