Number 21
An
American Truck.
I am a truck, my name is Truck, and I’m a yellow truck,
And I’ll be parked up by the house, tonight with any luck.
Don’t get me wrong, I like it when I’m miles and miles away,
But best of all I like it when I’m back home, any day.
Sometimes I have to go away for several days or more,
And when I’m gone I miss my home, my family of four.
I say goodbye to Car the car, and Pickup Truck the pickup,
Not forgetting Bike the bike, and the little dog called hiccup.
These are my mates, the ones I pass the time with in the yard;
It’s there I rest and relax after days of working hard.
My oil and water get a check, my paintwork gets a shine,
And I lay back, my engine quiet, and have a peaceful time.
It doesn’t last for very long, I watch my driver coming,
A pile of papers in his hand through which I see him thumbing.
Another week out on the road, I wonder where we’re going;
Down to the southern sunshine, or up north where it is snowing?
We trundle slowly to the freight yard while my engine’s warming,
There’s no-one much about just yet, this early in the morning.
We hook up to a special trailer, low down to the road;
So now I have a good idea of what will be our load.
We pull out on the highway, and soon we’re heading west,
The empty trailer pulling light, the way I like it best.
But pretty soon we’re turning down a very muddy track;
And there it is, the bulldozer, who’ll be riding on my back.
This bulldozer is not a bull, and neither is it dozy,
Its name of Caterpillar might make it sound quite cozy,
But really this great hunk of steel is powerful enough,
Every day to push away a thousand tons of stuff!
The trouble is although it’s strong, it’s also very slow,
Nothing much can make it stop, nor much can make it go.
To get it where it needs to be it has to be transported;
And that's my speciality, and I can get that sorted.
The trailer lowers at the front, and comes apart in two,
To make a ramp which bulldozers can clamber up onto.
When connected up again we lift clear of the ground;
My driver makes it all secure and checks it all around.
The Caterpillar weighs a lot, and the trailer seems to bend,
But that’s the way it’s meant to be to carry our big friend.
We turn around and pretty soon we’re back out on the road;
This time we’re heading northwards, carrying our load.
At lunchtime we pull over in a crowded truck-stop yard,
Where maneuvering our trailer is really pretty hard.
We squeeze between a breakdown truck and something painted pink;
A trailer full of pigs it seems, judging by the stink!
No two days are quite the same, though we stop there quite a lot;
I sometimes see the same truck twice, but much more often not.
It’s not as though we gossip much or have a heart to heart,
Because within an hour or two we’ll all be miles apart.
So on we go for three days more, a thousand miles in all,
Through the mountains, first in rain, and then a big snow fall.
We struggle on and on until we run right out of luck;
The snow’s so deep a Greyhound bus has got completely stuck.
There’s no way through, we can’t go back, there are people on the bus,
The weather’s getting worse and worse, affecting all of us.
If we have to stay here over-night, at least we are prepared,
But the people on the bus are cold and feeling rather scared.
They’ve all been out for several hours digging in the snow,
They’re tired and wet and hungry now, the bus will still not go.
And now it’s getting dark as well, it’s ten degrees below,
Desperation is the feeling that’s now begun to grow.
Just then the dozer makes a sound, it is his engine starting!
Of course, why not, that’s what we need, everyone was shouting!
So down he climbed and got to work, he pushed the snow away
Around the bus and in the front, he really saved the day!
A chain was found to pull the bus, and in a steady line,
The Caterpillar led the way, while I was left behind.
My driver drove the bulldozer but I was not neglected;
Once the bus was on it’s own, I was soon collected.
It took a while to load back up but it was well worthwhile,
We caught up with the bus again in about a mile.
They’d pulled in at a motel, and stopped there for the night.
Now they would be warm and fed, we knew they were alright.
As we drove down from the hills the snow turned back to rain,
The road ran by the railway tracks and we overtook a train.
It had a hundred wagons on, all loaded up with freight;
We said hello, but it was slow, and we had no time to wait.
Eventually we found the place we were to leave the dozer,
We were almost into Canada, we couldn’t get much closer.
We dropped him off and said goodbye, he went straight off to work;
He had his to do, and we had ours, and neither would we shirk.
Fifteen hundred miles for us, a road to cut for him,
Each to their own I think, his sounds rather grim.
I’d rather be there heading south, and in a day or three,
Back there in the yard we’ll be, Car, Pick-up, Hiccup, Bike and me.
I am a truck, my name is Truck, and I’m a yellow truck,
And I’ll be parked up by the house, tonight with any luck.
Don’t get me wrong, I like it when I’m miles and miles away,
But best of all I like it when I’m back home, any day.
Sometimes I have to go away for several days or more,
And when I’m gone I miss my home, my family of four.
I say goodbye to Car the car, and Pickup Truck the pickup,
Not forgetting Bike the bike, and the little dog called hiccup.
These are my mates, the ones I pass the time with in the yard;
It’s there I rest and relax after days of working hard.
My oil and water get a check, my paintwork gets a shine,
And I lay back, my engine quiet, and have a peaceful time.
It doesn’t last for very long, I watch my driver coming,
A pile of papers in his hand through which I see him thumbing.
Another week out on the road, I wonder where we’re going;
Down to the southern sunshine, or up north where it is snowing?
We trundle slowly to the freight yard while my engine’s warming,
There’s no-one much about just yet, this early in the morning.
We hook up to a special trailer, low down to the road;
So now I have a good idea of what will be our load.
We pull out on the highway, and soon we’re heading west,
The empty trailer pulling light, the way I like it best.
But pretty soon we’re turning down a very muddy track;
And there it is, the bulldozer, who’ll be riding on my back.
This bulldozer is not a bull, and neither is it dozy,
Its name of Caterpillar might make it sound quite cozy,
But really this great hunk of steel is powerful enough,
Every day to push away a thousand tons of stuff!
The trouble is although it’s strong, it’s also very slow,
Nothing much can make it stop, nor much can make it go.
To get it where it needs to be it has to be transported;
And that's my speciality, and I can get that sorted.
The trailer lowers at the front, and comes apart in two,
To make a ramp which bulldozers can clamber up onto.
When connected up again we lift clear of the ground;
My driver makes it all secure and checks it all around.
The Caterpillar weighs a lot, and the trailer seems to bend,
But that’s the way it’s meant to be to carry our big friend.
We turn around and pretty soon we’re back out on the road;
This time we’re heading northwards, carrying our load.
At lunchtime we pull over in a crowded truck-stop yard,
Where maneuvering our trailer is really pretty hard.
We squeeze between a breakdown truck and something painted pink;
A trailer full of pigs it seems, judging by the stink!
No two days are quite the same, though we stop there quite a lot;
I sometimes see the same truck twice, but much more often not.
It’s not as though we gossip much or have a heart to heart,
Because within an hour or two we’ll all be miles apart.
So on we go for three days more, a thousand miles in all,
Through the mountains, first in rain, and then a big snow fall.
We struggle on and on until we run right out of luck;
The snow’s so deep a Greyhound bus has got completely stuck.
There’s no way through, we can’t go back, there are people on the bus,
The weather’s getting worse and worse, affecting all of us.
If we have to stay here over-night, at least we are prepared,
But the people on the bus are cold and feeling rather scared.
They’ve all been out for several hours digging in the snow,
They’re tired and wet and hungry now, the bus will still not go.
And now it’s getting dark as well, it’s ten degrees below,
Desperation is the feeling that’s now begun to grow.
Just then the dozer makes a sound, it is his engine starting!
Of course, why not, that’s what we need, everyone was shouting!
So down he climbed and got to work, he pushed the snow away
Around the bus and in the front, he really saved the day!
A chain was found to pull the bus, and in a steady line,
The Caterpillar led the way, while I was left behind.
My driver drove the bulldozer but I was not neglected;
Once the bus was on it’s own, I was soon collected.
It took a while to load back up but it was well worthwhile,
We caught up with the bus again in about a mile.
They’d pulled in at a motel, and stopped there for the night.
Now they would be warm and fed, we knew they were alright.
As we drove down from the hills the snow turned back to rain,
The road ran by the railway tracks and we overtook a train.
It had a hundred wagons on, all loaded up with freight;
We said hello, but it was slow, and we had no time to wait.
Eventually we found the place we were to leave the dozer,
We were almost into Canada, we couldn’t get much closer.
We dropped him off and said goodbye, he went straight off to work;
He had his to do, and we had ours, and neither would we shirk.
Fifteen hundred miles for us, a road to cut for him,
Each to their own I think, his sounds rather grim.
I’d rather be there heading south, and in a day or three,
Back there in the yard we’ll be, Car, Pick-up, Hiccup, Bike and me.
© Stephen Saunders
A bit of a childish one!
To book Steph'nonsense for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher wanted.
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