M[A]y Uncle Pete was a trucker, r[D]iding down the Nullarbor plain t[a]en split gears and an overdrive, c[E]rome stack shooting out flames H[A]e'd throw me up into the cab, m[D]y little hands would grip the w[A]heel [A]and I would dream about the day, I could d[E]rive that rig for r[A]eal Chorus [D]Rolling, r[A]olling,.. r[D]olling around the...