A poem written by my Grandpa: Red Truck

I found this poem when digging through my grand fathers things this summer after he passed:

(not his actual truck but looks close to it from what I remember)

Red Truck Red Truck,
Better not get stuck,
Fifty miles of hay stack piles,
Heathers at home cooking up smiles,
Radio on turn the dial,
We've always rid in style,
Red Truck Red Truck,
You and I have gone so high,
Marijuana cigarette is dimly lit,
Heather says I should quit,
Old two by four holding up the door,
Fifty dollars this was a score,
If I die on the road,
always remember,
Life grows old,
Red Truck Red Truck