A Truckie’s Last Will and Testament Songtext
von Slim Dusty
A Truckie’s Last Will and Testament Songtext
I, John Austral, Truckie, being of unsound mind and bump bruised body,
do hereby make my last will and testament,
and bequeath my truck to the finance company,
who will end up with it anyway.
To my wife, I leave all the loving she can stand,
and a big apology for not being home more often.
I also apologize for being so tired when I was home,
and for wanting to go to bed too early when she wanted to go out.
You know old girl, there was a pretty good reason for this,
I really didn′t get as much sleep on the road as you imagine,
not really, a lot of the time I was just too damn tired.
To my children, I leave all the wisdom, most of us truckies never had,
and I hope that none of you grow up to be dirty, grease covered,
gear grindin' truck drivers like me.
To all good, clean, honest truck stops, I leave the windscreen
of my old truck, which most of them didn′t clean anyway.
but I leave it just the same, as a shining example of their
handy work and faithfulness, in helping me get to where I was going safely.
To all the lousy, filthy, dirty truck stops, I leave a pair of dirty socks,
and two pairs of dirt covered unmentionables that have been rolled up
and stuffed behind the seats in between the oil cans.
I leave them so they can hang them up in their filthy rest rooms,
and keep them as dirty as possible, so as to scare away any truckie,
who might dare enter that fever infested restroom.
To all highway patrolmen, state policemen, port of entry inspectors,
fruit fly inspectors, tick gate patrolmen,
local constables and government regulators,
I leave 316 pounds of reading matter that includes, law books,
motor vehicle guides, regulations and other enforced bull dust,
so they can become as fed up as I was.
To honest, fair lawmen, I leave a waving hand, in memory of
their tolerance and understanding, especially in the Northern Territory,
where hills are recognized as enemies of truckies,
and the speed laws are almost as good as the roads.
And may I say the same about Queensland.
To all other lawmen, I leave a waving hand,
but I add a slightly different finger and wrist action
To the mayor of truck noise I leave a prepaid toll ticket,
for a truck and trailer, since I know that even he would have
a hard time paying the high tolls on that road.
To the dear old town of Booze Up, I leave my gravel driveway,
so the towns people including the local copper,
can walk on it barefoot to remind themselves of their own roads,
which are not almost heaven.
To my wife also, I leave a map of Australia, so she can discover
it really does take a day or two to cross two inches
of the Northern Territory, because this is a bloody big country.
To New South Wales I leave a recipe for coffee Ough
Now to the truck stops who over price me on fuel, I leave the hope
that someday some stupid truck horn comes along in a truck horn
big mack with a through hop trailer and flattens his bloody pumps
And now to the mayor of brake squealing noise, I leave one stone,
to be placed on his desk and under each paper, which he has to sign,
which will make it as hard to write as it was to drive on his roads.
To all the good garages and dedicated shop foremen, I leave a word of thanks,
for helping me to stay on the road, even if it was only to pay their bill.
And to all the crooks at the bad garages, I leave you the best of all,
I leave you the tourists.
To all the truck stops with little or no parking, I leave the
state of Victoria, to be distributed in ten acre lots.
To all the crummy pubs, I leave a freeway by-pass, and to all the
pubs that threw me out because of my language, offensive behavior
or indecent dress, I leave the solemn hope that their beer turns to soap subs
and all their drinkers riot and wreck the bloody place.
To all the mugs who pinched the gear of my truck when I was
(sound of car passing and sleeping in cab or the gutter nearby,
I leave the hope that their wife runs off with the local dirt collector.
Last but not least, I leave to the government of Australia,
the firm hope that some leader, some lawmaker, somewhere, will
have the courage, honesty and foresight, to get his sound of car horn
into gear and pass some legislation providing for uniform loading
of trucks and seek other ways to ensure further rights for truckies everywhere.
And so being of unsound mind and worn out body, I leave my last $7.00 to
Truck and Bus magazine so my wife can read it and remember what a
bloody good truckie she was married to and maybe miss me for another year
do hereby make my last will and testament,
and bequeath my truck to the finance company,
who will end up with it anyway.
To my wife, I leave all the loving she can stand,
and a big apology for not being home more often.
I also apologize for being so tired when I was home,
and for wanting to go to bed too early when she wanted to go out.
You know old girl, there was a pretty good reason for this,
I really didn′t get as much sleep on the road as you imagine,
not really, a lot of the time I was just too damn tired.
To my children, I leave all the wisdom, most of us truckies never had,
and I hope that none of you grow up to be dirty, grease covered,
gear grindin' truck drivers like me.
To all good, clean, honest truck stops, I leave the windscreen
of my old truck, which most of them didn′t clean anyway.
but I leave it just the same, as a shining example of their
handy work and faithfulness, in helping me get to where I was going safely.
To all the lousy, filthy, dirty truck stops, I leave a pair of dirty socks,
and two pairs of dirt covered unmentionables that have been rolled up
and stuffed behind the seats in between the oil cans.
I leave them so they can hang them up in their filthy rest rooms,
and keep them as dirty as possible, so as to scare away any truckie,
who might dare enter that fever infested restroom.
To all highway patrolmen, state policemen, port of entry inspectors,
fruit fly inspectors, tick gate patrolmen,
local constables and government regulators,
I leave 316 pounds of reading matter that includes, law books,
motor vehicle guides, regulations and other enforced bull dust,
so they can become as fed up as I was.
To honest, fair lawmen, I leave a waving hand, in memory of
their tolerance and understanding, especially in the Northern Territory,
where hills are recognized as enemies of truckies,
and the speed laws are almost as good as the roads.
And may I say the same about Queensland.
To all other lawmen, I leave a waving hand,
but I add a slightly different finger and wrist action
To the mayor of truck noise I leave a prepaid toll ticket,
for a truck and trailer, since I know that even he would have
a hard time paying the high tolls on that road.
To the dear old town of Booze Up, I leave my gravel driveway,
so the towns people including the local copper,
can walk on it barefoot to remind themselves of their own roads,
which are not almost heaven.
To my wife also, I leave a map of Australia, so she can discover
it really does take a day or two to cross two inches
of the Northern Territory, because this is a bloody big country.
To New South Wales I leave a recipe for coffee Ough
Now to the truck stops who over price me on fuel, I leave the hope
that someday some stupid truck horn comes along in a truck horn
big mack with a through hop trailer and flattens his bloody pumps
And now to the mayor of brake squealing noise, I leave one stone,
to be placed on his desk and under each paper, which he has to sign,
which will make it as hard to write as it was to drive on his roads.
To all the good garages and dedicated shop foremen, I leave a word of thanks,
for helping me to stay on the road, even if it was only to pay their bill.
And to all the crooks at the bad garages, I leave you the best of all,
I leave you the tourists.
To all the truck stops with little or no parking, I leave the
state of Victoria, to be distributed in ten acre lots.
To all the crummy pubs, I leave a freeway by-pass, and to all the
pubs that threw me out because of my language, offensive behavior
or indecent dress, I leave the solemn hope that their beer turns to soap subs
and all their drinkers riot and wreck the bloody place.
To all the mugs who pinched the gear of my truck when I was
(sound of car passing and sleeping in cab or the gutter nearby,
I leave the hope that their wife runs off with the local dirt collector.
Last but not least, I leave to the government of Australia,
the firm hope that some leader, some lawmaker, somewhere, will
have the courage, honesty and foresight, to get his sound of car horn
into gear and pass some legislation providing for uniform loading
of trucks and seek other ways to ensure further rights for truckies everywhere.
And so being of unsound mind and worn out body, I leave my last $7.00 to
Truck and Bus magazine so my wife can read it and remember what a
bloody good truckie she was married to and maybe miss me for another year
Writer(s): Joy Mckean Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
