There’s eighteen wheels a rollin’

But they’re rollin’ mighty slow,

Making me do twenty miles an hour down the road,

But he’s turning off ahead of me,

He’s indicating left,

And that’s when I see the cyclists,

Riding three abreast.

And they’re going up an incline,

A one in twenty hill,

And I could scream, because to me it seems

Like I’m just standing still,

But I try keep my patients,

Because patients is factor,

Then just as I get past, I find,

I’m stuck behind a tractor.

And that tractor’s hauling silage,

Along these narrow country lanes,

And it’s splashing on my windshield

Like the dirtiest of rains,

My washer tries to wash it off,

But all it does is smears,

And you’ve never seen a grown man,

In his car so close to tears.

And you say you’ve had a bad day,

Oh’ dear Lord, don’t make me laugh,

You wouldn’t know a bad day,

If it asked for your autograph,

Thank your lucky stars my friend,

That you’re not the same as me,

And Lady Luck sticks hat pins

In your life sized effigy.

Well I get to work an hour late,

And my boss goes crazy, near irate

And says I have to work through my lunch break,

So I write the files, do the maths,

Line charts, pie charts and petrographs 

And that’s when the courier informs me, he’ll be late

I have an anniversary meal planned, with my sweet wife,

The one good thing in my whole life,

But I can’t leave work until the courier arrives,

I look at the single, long stemmed Rose,

So like the one I bought her, when I proposed,

And watch the damned thing wilt before my eyes.

But when the courier leaves, I’m close behind,

Figuring there might still be time,

To meet my dear wife for our special meal,

So I’m in the car and moving fast,

There’s just this learner driver to get past,

And the car with the old lady at the wheel.

But I could still make it, if I try,

Of course I’ll have to make this motor fly,

But there’s just three miles and another couple of bends,

Then there’s the traffic lights that seem to take

All day to change for Heaven sake,

And when they do, there’s those three cyclists again.

Going up another steep incline,

With me driving slowly, close behind,

Tears streaming down my cheeks like I’m a child,

Cursing the cyclists and my luck,

The tractor and that disgusting muck,

With which my car and I, this morning were defiled.

But eventually I get to where,

My wife was waiting, but she’s not there,

She thought that I’d forgotten, I suppose,

So it’s not surprising she didn’t wait,

After all I am three hours late,

And apart from that the restaurant is closed.

And you say, You’ve had a bad day,

For the love of God, don’t make me laugh,

You would know a bad day,

If it took your photograph,

Just thank your lucky stars my friend,

That you’re not the same as me.

And Lady Luck sticks hat pins,

In your life sized effigy.

By S.E.Ralph

12-4-2025