THE DRIVERS ODE

Driving me rig is what I live for

As I walk to the cab and open the door

I walk to the truck,kick all of the tyres

And keep my eyes open for any bare wires

I pull out the dipstick and check it for oil

Make sure there's enough water,I don't want to boil

I open the tank and check it for fuel

I'd hate to run out on the way to Thirroul

I close down the bonnet,put on all of the catches

And driving a tanker you don't carry matches

I start up the engine and listen for squeeks

Then go round the air lines and listen for leaks

I jump in the cab,check all of the gauges

If I drive without pressure the boss-man he rages

I polish the windows,make them ever so clean

I want to see out and I want to be seen

I push down the clutch and check the free play

Then hear what the others have all got to say

Some moan about loads,whinge about waggons

Their bellies so sore from drinking those flaggons

I climb up on the tank and bend my old back

To make sure the customers getting his whack

I push the stick down,the petrol touches the line

I close up the cap and say "She'll be fine"

I check blinkers ond lights and all of the chocks

Tuck in my shirt and pull up me socks

I pull the air-horn to make sure it drools

The kids will love it on the way to their schools

I push down the clutch and slip her in gear

The loaders rush out and give a big cheer

I don't crash the gears or give it a lurch

I drive like an old lady going to church

Through the gate-house windows my papers I toss

When I get out of here I'm my own bloody boss

I whistle and sing and think of new odes

As I manoeuver this monster on all kinds of roads