They Call Me Corvette Granny
They call me Corvette Granny
as I cruise around in my red Sting Ray,
vintage 1965 convertible and what a looker,
the top down with my hair flying in the wind,
totally not looking my age and undisciplined.
The call me Corvette Granny,
men want to race me on the streets,
they stare at my crimson beauty and wink,
flirting with a mighty engine that always wins,
knowing that they will eventually be kicked in the shins.
They call me Corvette Granny,
taking off at the light and burning rubber,
people on the sidewalks stop and stare,
wondering who is that crazy old bat,
driving a sports car looking smug and fat,
until my husband the cop stops me for speeding.
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