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 thought 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.