High class Slim came floatin` in
down from the county line.
Just gettin` right on Saturday night,
ridin` with some friends of mine.
They invited me just to come and see
just what was on their minds
and then I took my first long look
at the Master of Sparks on high.
In the back of Jimmy`s Mack
stood a round steel cage
welded into shape by Slim,
made out of sucker gauge.
How fine, they cried, now with you inside,
strapped in there safe and sound.
I thought, my-o-my, how the sparks will fly
if that thing ever hit the ground.
Slim was so pleased when I had eased
into his trap of death.
He had slammed the door but I said no more
and I thought I`d breathed my last breath.
We was out in the sticks down Highway Six
and the crowd was just about right.
The speed was too, so out I flew
like a stick of rollin` dynamite.
When I hit the ground you could hear the sound
and see the sparks a country mile.
End over end I began to spin
but the ball started runnin` wild.
But it was too late as I met my fate
and the ball started gettin` hot.
But through the sparks and the flame I knew that the claim
of the Master of Sparks was gone.
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