Song Parodies -> Shout at the Chevy
| Original Song Title: | "Shout at the devil" |
| Original Performer: | Motley Crue (with umlauts) |
| Parody Song Title: | "Shout at the Chevy" |
| Parody Written by: | dennis |
(My first car, oh many years gone. Twere fun while it lasted, though.)
Sick-stained yellow hulk of rust-pocked chrome,
Marks its territory every night,
Leaves rubber when it goes,
And the smoke it blows,
Slams my head in the back,
It's strange.
It's a road-bound missile,
And it makes me giggle,
When the road twists to and fro.
But when it spits and shivers,
I stands and delivers,
In the junkyard, and...
Chorus:
Shout!
Shout!
Shout!
Shout at the Chevy!
(interlude of air-ratchets whirring, clanging,
screaming porting tools, wrench-work.)
Ah-Hah! It's done!
The engine revs for the skies
It needs no wings when it flies
And it shifts with a howl and roar.
It puts my wits to the test,
For it takes corners with zest,
Like nothing you've seen before.
When I take it to the track,
It gets the white and the black,
It makes other people sore.
But when it burns up the crank,
It burns down my bank,
And I moan, and...
Shout,
Shout,
Shout,
Shout at the Chevy!
Sick-stained yellow hulk of rust-pocked chrome,
Marks its territory every night,
Leaves rubber when it goes,
And the smoke it blows,
Slams my head in the back,
It's strange.
It's a road-bound missile,
And it makes me giggle,
When the road twists to and fro.
But when it spits and shivers,
I stands and delivers,
In the junkyard, and...
Chorus:
Shout!
Shout!
Shout!
Shout at the Chevy!
Marks its territory every night,
Leaves rubber when it goes,
And the smoke it blows,
Slams my head in the back,
It's strange.
It's a road-bound missile,
And it makes me giggle,
When the road twists to and fro.
But when it spits and shivers,
I stands and delivers,
In the junkyard, and...
Chorus:
Shout!
Shout!
Shout!
Shout at the Chevy!
(interlude of air-ratchets whirring, clanging,
screaming porting tools, wrench-work.)
Ah-Hah! It's done!
The engine revs for the skies
It needs no wings when it flies
And it shifts with a howl and roar.
It puts my wits to the test,
For it takes corners with zest,
Like nothing you've seen before.
When I take it to the track,
It gets the white and the black,
It makes other people sore.
But when it burns up the crank,
It burns down my bank,
And I moan, and...
Shout,
Shout,
Shout,
Shout at the Chevy!
Sick-stained yellow hulk of rust-pocked chrome,
Marks its territory every night,
Leaves rubber when it goes,
And the smoke it blows,
Slams my head in the back,
It's strange.
It's a road-bound missile,
And it makes me giggle,
When the road twists to and fro.
But when it spits and shivers,
I stands and delivers,
In the junkyard, and...
Chorus:
Shout!
Shout!
Shout!
Shout at the Chevy!
The second verse is what I would have done had I the money. However, even as it was, I *still* managed corners rapidly - yes, even drastic hairpin turns where all four wheels slid as I steered with the throttle.
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Yeah, a big missile-charged car , like a '57 DeSOTO, will always take my breath away . . .
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