Run Johnny Run Poem by Raymond Jimison

Johnny was a renegade.
He ran those roads for fun.
But when he started haulin' shine,
the fun had just begun.

And the people said,
run Johnny run.
Bring that shine down out those hills.
The Feds can't catch you son.

You could hear the growl of that big-block Ford,
straight pipes purred and screamed.
And when he wound it up real tight,
Johnny lived his dream.

The Feds could never catch him.
They tried to find his lair.
They put a bounty on his head.
The people didn't care.

Then an old ex-friend turned him in,
for some trouble long ago.
The Feds set up a roadblock,
and through it did Johnny blow.

And the people said, run Johnny run.

Johnny blew a right front tire,
in the curve at Mountain Walk.
The big Ford tore through the guard rail,
and floated like a hawk.

It drifted through the darkness.
Toward the Broad River it did fly.
But no one ever heard it hit.
Some say he'll never die.

On cold dark nights in those Carolina hills,
you can hear that big Ford sigh.
And when he winds it up real tight,
Johnny's dream will never die.

And the people say, run Johnny run.

Raymond Jimison