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The Pizza Lament

Now I'm a pizza-driver
I drive them as a job
What really pizzas me off
Is the pizza eating mob.

The first one is the tourist
A likely place to start
He's the other side of woop-woop
But his tips have got no heart

Number two is little grandma
And just to hassle me
She'll ask," What's on all your pizzas,
And which one's going free."

Now because I drive at night,
The light's not always great
And a black cow is the one thing
That at speed I really hate.

'Cause it's anchors on and pray
That you miss the bloomin' beast.
(The pizza and the garlic bread's
All over the front seat.)

So I pick up all the pieces,
And stuff 'em in the bag
Nobody'll notice it
Mark it 'discount' on the tag.

And as for misty weather,
You should try and drive through that,
Or stepping in a puddle,
Or stepping on a cat.

And how about the spiders,
Or the webs across my face,
Or all those little swear words
That I said at someone's place.

Yes, I love driving pizzas,
And getting soaking wet,
But as I hear you laugh,
The last laugh I'll have yet.

For when I came to work
My false teeth were in my care,
And somebody in Pizza-land,
Has eaten them unaware.

Copyright; Kevin Greig

 

 



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