Meditation On The A30

A man on his own in a car

Is revenging himself on his wife;

He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle

And puffs at his pitiful life

She's losing her looks very fast,

She loses her temper all day;

That lorry won't let me get past,

This Mini is blocking my way.

"Why can't you step on it and shift her!

I can't go on crawling like this!

At breakfast she said that she wished I was dead-

Thank heavens we don't have to kiss.

"I'd like a nice  blonde on my knee

And one who won't argue or nag.

Who dares to come hooting at me?

I only give way to a Jag.

"You're barmy or plastered, I'll pass you, you bastard-

I will overtake you. I will!"

As he clenches his pipe, his moment is ripe

And the corner's accepting its kill.