I was twenty and she was eighteen,
We were just as wild as we were green, in the ways of the world
She picked me up in that red rag top,
We were free of the folks and hiding from the cops,
On a summer night runnin all the red lights
We parked way out in a clearinin a grove and the night
Was hot as a coal burnin stove,
We were cookin the gas we were had to last

My old friend,
I recall
The times we had hanging on my wall
I wouldn't trade them for gold
Cause they laugh and they cry me
Somehow sanctify me
Their woven in the stories I have told
And tell again
My old friend