Where Do They Get Their Licence
September 30, 2009
By: Rose Marie Rideout

Parked in a space at the Mall,
Just biding my time,
This lady decided to drive away,
Taking my car across the line.

She left my whole front,
Resting upon the ground,
As her truck made the turn,
She hauled my car around.

Ya she drove out,
But she couldn’t see,
She ripped off my front end,
That didn't please me.

Now she seems to be still driving,
I am left without a car,
I’m trapped sixty Kilometers from home,
To walk would be too far.

I could use a change of clothes,
Some meds would just be fine,
Tell me where they get their licence,
Not the same place I got mine.

Some folks weren’t meant to drive,
For they haven’t got a clue,
To wrecklessly wreck anothers car,
A licence just won’t do.

I see them standing in the line,
All hoping to pass their test.
Waiting patiently one at a time,
They wast to pass so they can rest.

Just young kids, driving today,
Make you think twice of being in their way.
Not knowing the rules or understand,
The road belongs to every woman & man.