The legend lives on from the Triple-A on down
of the big lake we almost drove into.
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
all those poor saps wish they'd never been to!

With a load of us kids, here's what my mother did
with her '66 Ford Country Squire:
She shoved us real hard, me and brother Bernard
and that station wagon's speed went higher.

The car was the pride of Detroit's Southwest Side
and was bought by my Dad in New Jersey.
We'd sit in the back and Bernard would attack.
Even then, he was evil, no mercy!

(Now, just hold a sec, I interrupt this "Wreck."
Bernard's writing this verse just to tell ya:
We were seven years old, and if truth will be told:
You should never let Mike try to smell ya!)

(Instrumental break, while Mike tries to remember what the hell Bernard's talking about.
Apparently, he inherited Mom's selective memory!)

(Who's got a selective memory, Mikey?)

(I remember it clear as day, Bernard! It was June '77!
School had just let out, we had just been promoted from 2nd to 3rd grade,
the Mets had just traded Tom Seaver to Cincinnati...)

(Oh, yeah, that's probably what you were teasing me about. Now, I remember!
And that was the weekend that Reggie Jackson and Billy Martin
had that near-fight in the Fenway Park dugout! Your Yankees, the Bronx Zoo!)

(Right. Can we please get back to the song now, Bernard?)

(Fine, 'cause if we agree on nothing else,
we agree on Mom's sense of direction. Go!)

The engine of car made a tattletale sound.
Mom pulled into an Exxon for service.
But directions she read couldn't get to her head.
That got me and Bernard really nervous!

Destination we want was a lake in Vermont
but her sense of direction sure messed her.
At Albany, durn, Mom made very wrong turn
and we ended up out in Rochester!

So she turned us around and I-90 she found
and was pointed back toward Massachusetts.
But Bernard and I fought, pulled over as she ought
and yelled, "Stop it, or I'm gonna lose it!"

Route 7 she found and we're log-cabin bound.
But she burned gasoline by the barrel.
And she made big mistake, how we got to the lake.
The directions had left us imperiled!

(instrumental break)

Does anyone know where my mother's car goes
when her driving turns short trips to hours?
But on this hot night, we got terrible fright
as we almost got wrong kind of showers!

The sign said "ROAD CLOSED" and we later supposed
that the bridge was out, no cross for water.
All all that remains is the story maintained
that we told when Mom had a new daughter!

They say Lake Champlain has a monster that zings
on the New York State-and-Vermont border.
The creature, it steams like a young man's dreams.
And to feed it, no one can afford 'er!

And farther beyond, is river St. Laurent
in Quebec with the Customs inspections.
The Canadians said so, as Bernard and I know
Mom went too far with lousy directions!

(instrumental break)

In a musty old house in New Jersey we tell
of a trip that earned our Mom no laurel.
This story, we've chimed about 29 times
of the directions that left us imperiled!

The legend lives on, how we almost did drown
in the big lake named for French explorer.
Does a monster live there? Well, I really don't care.
Mom's directions, they did no good for her!