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Was August when, the women and men
From I.T. started to roll
With four wheel drives, and weekend supplies
They formed the IT PATROL.
Wouldn’t you know, maps don’t show
Those unmarked stagecoach trails
Going up and down and through ghost towns
Like cats chasing their tails.
Across rivers and creeks and snow covered peaks
Through canyons with mile high walls
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Past deserted mines and Rocky Mountain pines
And tumbling clear water falls
We bounced and bumped, over boulders and stumps
Until everything was sore
In four wheel low, in bumper deep snow
And through mud up to the door
Until at last, “Thar’s da pass!”
Mosquito up the way
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Over thirteen thou, “we’ll cross it now!”
“The highest pass in the USA!”
If your life’s a bore, there’s gotta be more
Join the IT PATROL
Slip and slide, across the divide
Let them four wheels roll
On the CB channels, you’ll hear their handles
Drifting in the wind
With mud and snow, slingin’ high and low
They’re gonna do it again.
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