He is just an eighteen wheeler
in a hundred thousand dollar rig
he doesn't own the truck yet
and the payments are quite big
His hands are rough and calloused
but his heart is kind and good
and if you ask a favor
he would do it if he could
He travels o'er the country
going north, and south, east and west
for driving of the big wheels
is the thing he does the best
He has a mom in Oklahoma
and a son in Tennessee
and somewhere in the state of Georgia
a wife waits patiently
He is tall and lean and lanky
and his hair is long and sooty black
and he wears cowboy boots and western shirts
and there must be at least twenty
that he keeps there in the stack
He plays western songs upon the radio
and he plays them long and loud
and sometimes he'll sing along
for of his voice, he is quite proud
He will haul a load of lumber
from the state of Washington
and he'll have to be in Pittsburg
before the setting of the sun
He'll pick up a load of copper tubing
and then he'll head out for L A
and the deadline that they give
leaves no time to lag or play
some days are slow and lazy
and things seem to go quite well
some days are hard and savage
and when it's over
It would seem he'd been to hell
some days he travels on the highways
with troubles very few
and then the qual-com light comes blinking on
and he thinks, now what did I do
In the freezing snows of Minnesota
orArizona's blazing sun
don't feel sorry for yourself
for you've been paid good money
for the driving that you've done
He'll take a load of baby cats (small buldozers)
and haul them Florida way
and then he'll hook onto a trailer of tarped merchendise
and head toward Santa Fe
He keeps his log book up to date
so he will never get behind
for if you're stopped and it's not done
you'll get a hefty fine
But he wouldn't change his way of living
that's all he's ever done
and he learned the ropes the hard way
and now he's number one
There's a double bed behind his seat
and on the shelf's a small T V
his clothes are in his suitcase
and his money's in his lockbox
and he has the only key
A truckers prayer hangs on the mirror
and he keeps a bible on the dash
and he says a prayer most every night
that he doesn't have a crash
Life is good but sometimes lonely
but he wouldn't change a thing
for when he the wheels a humming
he oft times begins to sing
Now he's made it to the summet
of a place called Donner Pass
and he's heading on to California
and the wheels are rolling fast
The Peterbilt he's driving
is black and gold with silver trim
and the smoke stack keeps belching black smoke
in a line that's long and thin
Now he's heading back to Georgia
to take a long and needed rest
and he's bringing home a dozen roses
for the lady he loves best
and he'll stay there for a week or two
and enjoy what life has in store
then he'll crawl up in that big rig
to ride the roads once more
and he whistles a happy tune
as he pulls out on the interstate
for he has trucking in his blood
and sometimes he just can't wait
Personally I don't trust
Personally I don't trust these guys most of the time. Been hurt before and I don't share with a wife !