Hammer Down Saturday

Well the sun drops low on Clear Lake shore,

And you can hear those engines start to roar,

Friday’s gone, workweek’s in the rearview light,

Lakeport’s comin’ alive tonight.

There’s dust on the boots,

there’s kids packed tight,

Hangin’ on the fence underneath those lights,

Old men talkin’ horsepower,

young folks laugh, Somebody’s burnin’ rubber down the backstretch fast.

From Ukiah up, from Kelseyville,

They’re packin’ in tight for a Saturday thrill,

But when that green flag drops and the crowd stands tall,

There’s one name louder than ’em all.

Jesse Weaver, put the hammer down,

King of the blacktop in this little town,

Door to door, sparks flyin’ bright,

Chasin’ that checkered flag under Saturday night lights.

You can hear that engine sing from the lake to the hills,

Everybody knows who’s got the wheel,

When the whole grandstand starts stompin’ the ground,

Jesse Weaver’s runnin’ Lakeport town.

Now they’ll race just about anything here,

If it’s got four wheels and somebody’s got no fear,

Old RVs bangin’ like a demolition train,

Sideways through the corners,

shakin’ windowpanes. Then they bring out the boats for the derby show,

Crash ’em and smash ’em till there ain’t much left to tow,

And Cadillac Pat’s got the whole place rollin’ right,

Like the boss of the midway on a Saturday night.

He ain’t racin’ for a mansion,

He ain’t racin’ for fame,

He’s racin’ for the folks Who remember his name.

For every kid by the fence With a dream in his eyes,

For the crew in the pits Workin’ late every night.

You can wreck a car,

You can bend some steel,

But you can’t teach a man What Jesse feels behind the wheel.

RV smoke, boats get smashed,

Tires squeal and bumpers crash,

Cadillac Pat says, “Line ’em up right!”

Lakeport’s loose on a Saturday night.

Jesse Weaver, put the hammer down,

Raise that checkered flag over Lakeport town,

Chrome and thunder, redline night,

Number one rollin’ underneath those lights.

From the speedway fence to the Clear Lake shore,

They’ll be tellin’ these stories for years and more,

When somebody asks where the fastest are found,

Say Jesse Weaver’s runnin’ Lakeport town.

Yeah, the moon shines down and the engines cool,

Kids head home talkin’ ’bout what they’ll do,

But somewhere in the pits there’s a motor wound tight,

’Cause Jesse Weaver’ll be back next Saturday night.

Yeah, Lakeport’ll be back next Saturday night.