Bill Staines - Wild, Wild Heart

      G
I was born on the seat of semi
            Em        D        G
the wind it wistled away in my ears

some babies go to sleep to a lullibye.
        Em            D           G 
Yes and mine was the sound of the gears
       C                    G
I grew up with my face in a road map
            C           Am         D
And with my fingers I'd follow the lines
          G            D             C         G
And now I run from the coast and I'm gone like ghost, 
		     C             D      G
when you hear that old diesal whine
          G            D             C         G
And now I run from the coast and I'm gone like ghost, 
		     C             D      G
when you hear that old diesal whine

I've an angel overhead looking after me
she keeps away that old devil below
And old Mister Scratch, you know he's met his match
but still he follows wherever I go
Give me a theroms full of truck-stop coffee
give me a head to head reace with the sun
give me a good heavy load and a clear stretch of rad
and I'll let that old bulldog run
give me a good heavy load and a clear stretch of rad
and I'll let that old bulldog run

BRIDGE: (one strum start measure, single down strums on beat for last 2)
            Em                C
I've driven dynamite over the Rockies
            Em                  C
I've driven cattle ont he Texas plains
Em                         C
citrus up and down the California line,
			                  Em     D
and heavy timber on the oregon rains

Now there's snow coming off of lake Erie,
I'm an hour ahead of the strom.
Sometimes I think I get a little weary of this,
But those feelings never last very long.
Four days on the road out of "Shakey",
I'll get through "Nickel," before it's dark,
I've got no steady address, the call me "Pony Express"
and my rig is the "Wild, Wild Heart"
I've got no steady address, the call me "Pony Express"
and my rig is the "Wild, Wild Heart"

I was born on the seat of a semi,
the wind, it whistled away in my ears.
Some babies go to sleep to a lullabye,
yes, and mine was the sound of gears.
I grew up with my face in a road map,
And then I took to the trail like a dart
I've got no steady address, the call me "Pony Express"
and my rig is the "Wild, Wild Heart"
I've got no steady address, the call me "Pony Express"
and my rig is the "Wild, Wild Heart"