Roger had a dream: to be a famous grand prix star,

and at the tender age of ten he built a racing car;

he sat there in the driver's seat - his Mum was laughing hard,

the chuckling stopped when Roger drove that car out of the yard!

He hit the bitumen and pressed the pedal to the floor,

the souped-up engine screamed in pain - a loud and throaty roar,

two strips of rubber showed where he had started on his run,

as Roger raced away just like a bullet from a gun.

The local shopping center was as busy as a hive,

nobody knew that Roger chose today to take his drive,

a car park full of customers, all searching for a place,

and never realizing they were part of Roger's race.

The youngster watched the tacho as the needle climbed the dial,

he made the cake shop corner on two wheels and gave a smile,

outside the Dunkin' Donuts two policemen had a fit,

but Roger swerved around them, this was not the time to pit.

A dozen fast patrol cars flashed their lights and sirens screamed,

that boy was so much quicker than those coppers ever dreamed,

he slalomed through the parking lot and out to highway one,

they chased him to the County line, and Roger's race was won.

Now, ten-year-olds can't tell what's wrong and don't know what is right,

so when he got that checkered flag, he ceased his speedy flight,

policemen drew their guns, and put an end to Roger's game,

the kid was then arrested and the headlines screamed his name.

But Judges were once boys, and he was freed from this huge mess,

his Mother made a fortune - sold the story to the press,

he'd lived out every revvin-headed, lead-foot childhood dream,

and now his future is secure - he's on Paul Newman's team!