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Guitar: Georgie On The Freeway (including lyrics and chords)

979 views · Published 24 October 2008 · 3:56 · Indexed 20 September 2026

Channel: threelegsoman · 2008 · Music

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One of Paxton's more amusing songs. I often wonder how I would fare on an American Freeway with all its lanes and cloverleafs!

Georgie On The Freeway
Tom Paxton
No capo

C                                                                            G7          C
The summer sun was beating down, no pity would it show,
                                                 F      C         G7                          C
George Chester's office air-conditioner would no longer go.
                                                   F    C                            G7   C
As pools of sweat rolled off his brow, he had one reverie,
                                                                               G7                      C   
He saw himself with his wife and kids in his cottage by the sea.

He paid for his car at the parking lot, which gave the poor man chills.
The attendant laughed and walked away, thumbing a roll of bills.
He started his engine with trembling hands at the end of a long hard day,
And placing himself in the hands of God, he drove to the long freeway.

The traffic stretched far as the eye could see as bumper to bumper they sped.
They drove at supernatural speeds, which filled his heart with dread.
Sometimes they stopped for an hour or more and a thousand horns would blow.
George Chester's eyes rolled back in his head and his poor brain started to go.

At last they came to the turnpike gate and he laid his money down.
He took the first turn to the right and he followed the curb around.
He took each bend in the cloverleaf, he followed every sign
And when he came back to the same toll gate he gave them another dime.

His hands were tired on the steering wheel, his lips and throat were dry,
He swore by all that he held dear he'd make it through or die,
He took the first turn to the right, the cloverleaf to go through.
He was quite sure of his success till that toll gate hove in view.

And now they say when the moon is high and the cloverleaf is still,
The sound of an engine can be heard, labouring up a hill.
A dime drops in the toll machine at the end of a summer's night,
And eternally that poor car takes the first turn to the right.

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