Licking tyres

T’was a journey from a nightmare,
From Manchester to here,
Driving through the country,
Did she have to be so near.

I wonder if she wants,
To look inside my boot,
I wonder if she thinks,
I’m carrying bullion and loot.

Does she want to read my Satnav,
She’s that close I think she could,
Or maybe she has spotted,
Something interesting on my hood.

I’ve slowed down just a tad,
She’s now examining my hairdo,
I wonder if she realises,
The impending traffic cue.

She looks quite irritated,
That miserable pain,
Maybe she should just pull over,
In to the faster lane.

Now I’m not one to get exited,
I don’t fluster at the slightest thing,
But if she don’t shift her arse,
I’m gonna stop and duff her in.

Oh dear, the arctic lorry,
Did suddenly appear,
Was that her bumper he did touch,
Upon sorry her rear.

He’s passed her now,
She has retreated,
He’s next to me,
And to smiles he’s treated.

If you’re the woman driver,
Who yesterday licked my tyres,
Get a bloody licence,
Or from driving please retire.

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