There once was an owner named Clark.
Who’s Viper was always in ‘park’
It was yellow you see
The color of ***
So he kept it completely in dark
And in the garage it would sit
Never to see a race pit
The speedo on zero
With coats of Sal’s Zaino
‘Cause Clark just would not track it.
“Race it” I said at the bar.
I mocked with a laughing “Har, har.”
Clark’s fear would kick in
Like a frightened chicken.
The same color shade as his car.
I’d let poor Clark save face
I’d let him set his own pace
I’d pass him and grin
But to my chagrin
He’ll never go to a race.
So you see, I’m really quite mellow
And really a wonderful fellow
But I don’t understand
How a reasonable man
Would ever get a Viper in yellow
