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 though 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.