Red Car

I shall gallivant as the red car rolls down

On the harbor I'll not feel in a specific town

The gas lines will stick their heads above the earth like gophers

And the limousines carry on directed by the chauffeurs

And the shop cats will conduct their morning hunt along the pilings

And the women walk along the berths in all their pretty stylings

And I know no other place I feel like dyin' in

I know this time there will be no sighing

Oh, the fisherman

No more fairweather pains I've grown to know