With a great puff of smoke,
And a whole lot of luck,
Old Joe was off trappin’,
In that flamin’ old truck.

With pennies for washers,
And loose bolts as well,
She was always overloaded,
That Transport from hell.

With cages and boxes,
All stacked so high,
Old Joe was all smiles,
As he said goodbye.

The exhaust pipe rattled,
And both guards shook,
He reversed out the drive,
And off he took.

He tackled the hills,
And the drive was tough,
You’d thought the old Chevy,
Had taken enough.

But old Joe and that Ute,
Were a team, true blue,
Nothing ever stopped them,
They had to get through.

As the years went by,
That old Chevy got slow,
She retired from Trappin’,
And so did Old Joe.