18 wheel fighting those torrid hills of sleepless nights.
Sleep in the rig dare not tip the jig the highway has its own gig.
Air breaks keep um safe, those pools of endless spools of rubber necking fools.
Splat that bug thought it was bigger than this semi in high gear, not even in the rear.
Mud flaps display names of creativity, Ingersoll Mack Morehouse and even more.
Breaker breaker that static will shake you wake , ripple of the brail bumps will surely bring you luck.
Horizon a mile a head, your eyes glance the glow of that strobe light not yet lit, lift you toes off that lever that makes those horses go.
Full here we go slow this is how to earn the dough, fast we come back need to keep those sprockets chocked up to the docket.
Hulling emprises to cities, towns, boroughs even the parishes, hope no one is in despair of a tire repair.
Dose anyone pay homages to the hours of devoted deliveries, we can only hope so, these drivers , sacrifices family time devoted to keeping our country fed and looking fine.