I'm driving a road-train, one hundred feet long
And I'm pushing much harder than planned
I've got mail for the people who live down in Perth
I deliver on time, or I'm damned.

A truckdriver's life is a difficult one,
He's despised as a road hogging cheat
He must break the speed limits, wherever he can
And be hounded and run off his feet.

Road Transport, Police, and the Special Task Force
All insist there's a job to be done
They go right through my log book, they're cynics and hard
They make all drivers' wages hard won.

The Main Roads department close off half a road
While the graders and rollers go slow
And the truck driver waits in frustration and heat
For the man to change "Stop", into "Go".

The sign slowly changes, the caravan moves
And the road train rolls doggedly on
It has cost twenty minutes, this roadworks delay
But without it there'd be nothing done.

So I'm driving a road-train, I'm pushing it hard
And I'm glad I've got cleanskins** all round
And I hope there's no roadworks ahead of me now
I'm on schedule again, westward bound.


** Cleanskins are tyres which have not been recapped, or retreaded