The trucking man of yesterday, an old timer he's called today,
Knight of the road people used to say, back then he knew the way.
An eighteen wheeled beast was his trusty steed,
A strong cup of coffee and a good load his only need.
His daddy was a trucker, maybe his uncle too,
Making sure the freight always got through.
Like the pony express, in good weather or bad,
The knight rode his steed, healthy or ill, happy or sad.
Today this old knight sits at a booth in a cafe',
Telling stories of yesterday.
He tells of the power his great steed had under the hood,
And how the rough ride was the only thing not so good.
The knights eyes glaze over, he chokes back a tear,
As emotion floods through him reflecting back on yesteryear.
Trucking is in his blood, oh how he misses the life of the road,
Paralyzed by age and poor health, a burden, it's his heaviest load.
Each day he ambles into this truckstop cafe' taking it all in,
The smells, and the sounds reminders of a day that had once been.
At home late at night his tears fall like heavy rains,
To himself he declares,A trucker I'll be 'till they bury my remains!
copyright 2001 LM |
