Oh I can beat that one: How about:
Baby when I met you there was peace unknown
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb (What!) 
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Hawkwind’s song “Quark, Strangeness and Charm” probably deserves a place in this listing:
Einstein was not a handsome fellow
Nobody ever called him Al
He had a long moustache to pull on
It was yellowI don’t believe he ever had a girl
One thing he missed out in his theory
of time, space and relativity
Is something that makes it very clearHe was never gonna score like you’n’me
He didn’t know about Quark, Strangeness and Charm
I had a dangerous liaison
To have been found out would’ve been a disgraceWe had to rendezvous some mesons
On the corner of an undiscovered place
We got sick of chat chat chatter and the
look upon everybody’s faceBut all that does not anti-matter now
We’ve found ourselves a black hole in space
And we’re talking about Quark, Strangeness and Charm
Copernicus had those Renaissance ladiesCrazy about his telescope
And Galileo had a name that made his
reputation higher than his hopes
Did none of those astronomers discoverWhile they were staring out into the dark
That what a lady looks for in her lover
is Charm, Strangeness and Quark.
…although I actually quite like it, I think the geekiness of it sort of works. It’s a bit like the theme song to “The Big Bang Theory” by the Barenaked Ladies.
Was that the car famous for exploding if it was struck by anything more solid than a feather?
Or was the Ford Pinto?
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Probably the Pinto. My brother had an ancient Pinto estate(1) as his first car in Turks & Caicos in the late 90s when he was a penniless diving instructor. I drove it a couple of times on the (very potholed) local roads - it was an experience similar to whitewater rafting but without the spray. 
(1) sorry - “station wagon”
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At the end of a shoot in L.A. I was handed the keys to a dog-eared Pinto and $400 towards gas. The owner was moving from L.A. to Miami - by air.
I was to deliver the car to him there - “Just don’t take forever and don’t let them steal the box of legal documents from the trunk”
I took this box into my motel room every night but on the first night out from L.A. the box of dirty laundry was stolen, perhaps because it was in a whisky carton.
I am amazed now to think that I trusted this tatty Pinto, which had only ever trundled the boulevards of L.A., to go coast to coast USA without trouble but it did.
I did have 2-3 hrs of abject fear tho’. I reached Flagstaff, AZ, from the south rim of the Gd Canyon to hear the radio announce “the first snow warning of the season”.
Within minutes there was a blizzard, a complete white-out. The Pinto had tyres suitable for CA and probably not much tread for that. The snow was packed down hard by HGVs.
Occasionally the car would gently drift sideways down the highway. I stuck to the middle lane as one of these gyrations might take me off the road, down the bank and into the pine woods, never to be seen again.
As I crept slowly along in the middle of the road enormous trucks roared past. How one of these didn’t steam right over me I will never know.
Time came when I could hear a station in Phoenix telling me that it was sunny and 70F there. I was still in the blizzard and calling on favours from Big G.
The only other dodgy moment was nothing to do with the car but my state of ‘white line fever’. After days on my own, crossing America, I picked up a guy who had crawled out of the scrub on the side of the road. He had a big scar on one cheek.
As we trundled across Louisiana towards Nwarlins he asked, “In England do you have hitch hikers pulling guns on drivers and stealing the car?”
Uh-oh … I told him that England was a civilised country and nobody had guns or hijacked cars.
He advised me that in all probability I would be knifed in Nwarlins so I didn’t stop.
Next day I made it to Tallahassee, FL. I noticed that the cops were only stopping cars on the north bound side of the highway, taking a few more dollars from tourists leaving the state.
I handed the Pinto over, along with the legal papers but no laundry.
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They’re the worst lyrics ever, don’t rhyme, no chorus. It’ll never be a hit.
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Ah that ole country classic,
My Gran’ma drove her Pinto to Nashville
Breakin hearts an losin laundry on the way
Yeah my Gran’ma drove her Pinto to Nashville
These are the worst song lyrics you’ll read today.
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Surely if our senses find pleasure then job done 
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Roger Waters has been responsible for some great lines and dire.
The dire ones that I particularly sniff at (apart from the obvious garbage of “We don’t need no education … ,”) are
Hark unto the barking of the dog fox
Gone to ground.
Foxes don’t bark. And whatever noise they make wouldn’t be heard if underground.
But he deserves great credit for
Far away, across the fields
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell.
Perfectly conjures up a feeling of a cold, misty evening on a Cambridgeshire fen. And the painting by Millet ‘The Angelus’
Its actually “Hear the lark and harken to the barking of the dog fox”
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the ones living in my little bro’s back garden used to make a racket at times… I’d certainly call it barking…
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There was/is a German conductor called Christof Prick. No, he wasn’t, actually.
And
certainly doesn’t imply going underground. Perhaps you were thinking of The Jam? 
(But 10/10 for knowing Grantchester Meadows!)
And the foxes in my neck of the woods make a sound that I’d describe as barking…
We have a lot of urban foxes chez moi in the UK, not heard any of them but the consensus looking at (eg) the BBC Springwatch FB page is that they do, indeed, bark (plus make a variety of other sounds).
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Term used by huntsmen - what foxes etc do to hide
Surely the one follows the other - our foxes definitely bark - warning sound - followed by going to ground - actually rather beautiful lyrics.
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With my Cub-Scout troop, we visited a woodland to find a fox’s den… actually, we were told, by the Ranger, to gently sniff the air… and we found the den with our noses before we saw the actual location… poo, it did pong… (which rhymes with song)
Ahh, the subtle aroma of foxes, Twiglets and gingers.
When mating they sometimes sound like a baby / child being strangled.
it freaks some people out walking back from a night in a country pub in Jan/Feb.
Down in Dingly Dell, Devon, a fox in the field opposite my boatyard was making such a fearsome screaming sound late at night I got up to se what was going on.
It was quite an evocative sight. A fox, with its muzzle pointin to the sky, was sitting in the moonlight, screaming like a huma female, in extremis [as the movies would have it]
As for ‘going to ground’ foxes do live in underground dens. That’s why hunters used to send a Jack Russell down the hole and then dig the dog and the fox out.
My Border Collie, when she got wind of an up-coming trip in the car, used to sneak off into the countryside and return plastered with either badger or fox crap, both intensely dreadful stinks.
The look of humiliation as she was hosed down and cleaned up with laundry soap … that reduced the smell by about 85%. The remaining 15%, in the car, was awful.
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