Been all over this map, from dot to dot
Red and blue lines, like his old tired eyes
Running late up and down every interstate
It is a living, like it or not
Another truck stop, burger and a order of fries
Rather hauling cattle or packing freight
A long haul from Laredo to San Pancho
"Dead heading", from there to God knows where
Flirting with a truck stop Cutie, a hot cup of coffee
"Sure Babe, make it to go"
Millions of white lines and little prayer
The country, he is getting to see
Over weight, got to dodge the scales
Chain up in Bozeman, slip and slide to "The Mile High City"
Maybe there will be another load
"Black Ice" everywhere, white knuckle driving, biting his nail
Co-pilots, little white pills with no pity
"I need to get off this damn old road"
Blow into "The Windy City" then on to Fargo
Half a tank of fuel, it is freezing in this old "Pete"
Wind a blowing fifty or more, drifting snow four foot deep
Driving all night, nothing but snow
Frozen to the core, no sign of any heat
He is a road runner...Beep Beep
San Pancho is Mexican border slang for San Francisco?
As you sit down for your tea, take a moment to think of me
I am the one who leaves the quay, to bring home harvest from the sea
Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel
Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail
The quota’s nearly done for me, too many a catch thrown back to sea
The jobs-worth from the ministry, care’s nothing for my misery
Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel
Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail
The sea cares nothing for my fate, the ebbing tide will never wait
There’s not enough to fill a crate, as I battle Neptune to fill your plate
Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel
Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail
When deep-sea fish no longer spawn, when my rusty old trawler has been withdrawn
When fishermen are no longer born and the old Sowester’s no longer worn
Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel
I trawl the waves from dusk ‘til dawn; there’ll be no fish cakes when I am gone!
Goodbye old friend it is time to go
Now that spring has melted the snow
The sunlight and rain brought freshness again
So it is time for spring cleaning to begin
It seems each year it is out with the old
Many things at a yard sale to be sold
Pots, pans, old clothes, shoes, and hats
Trinkets, tools, and a little of this and that
Someone will buy you and take you home
They will cherish you as their very own
Your time is only finished here and now
You’ll have a good life out there somehow
I don’t know what I’ll do now it’s true
I’m not sure I can live without you
Maybe with some fixing and a bit of a shine
I can make you last just a little more time
I think I will keep you just one more year
I would miss you too much, I see it so clear
This is the same thing I said last year
So we can’t tell my husband he can never hear
He’d never understand I’m not a pack rat
But let’s see him part with his cracked ball bat
So it looks like you’re safe right where you are at
But next year, well… I’ll think about that!
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