They Always Need Someone To Blame

I Still Love To Mini-Cab.
My job entails I drive my car
Whether journeys near or fields afar.
Each day I do the usual hours
Through smog filled towns
Come shine or showers.
I do this job to earn the noughts
And for my cash I drive all sorts.
From OAP’s to city gents,
Tourists, drunks, my car’s for rent.
It may not be the glamour life
And sometimes gives me stress and strife.
Like when my ten mile fare won’t pay,
Leaps out the car and runs away.
I look up to the sky and say
This is not my day today.
But it is not all doom and gloom,
At certain times there is a boom.
In the office all the phones are ringing
And hark I hear my wallet singing.
I have the cash to pay the bills
And buy new tyres for my wheels.
Then tell the good news to my wife,
A smile replaces the kitchen knife.
The job can sometimes make me frown,
It picks me up and knocks me down.
But through the good times and the bad,
I still love to minicab.

Mini-Cab Drivers Work Hard.
Mini-cab drivers work hard to try and earn some cash.
Drunks and runners, no-fare jobs and other types of trash.
You think that one week you are rich with money to be spent
But bills come in and cars go wrong and then there’s the rent.
Some go into betting shops to try and end up rich
But luck is what you need because life is such a bitch.
Others try to buy and sell to try and raise a pound
The rest of us just end up running cars into the ground.
So all you drivers, young and old, just try and do your best.
Life is what you make it lads, so put it to the test.
Some of us might crack it and some of us might not
But we’ll all carry on cabbing because that’s all we’ve got.

They Always Need Someone To Blame.
I am a mini-cab controller, but I will never own a roller.
I answer the phone, the old dog and bone.
I listen to complaints, and put up with the moans.
The moans from the drivers, the moans from the punters.
The parking warden is pacing, the traffic is racing.
The weather is dicey, the petrol is pricey.
The customer is complaining, the radio is failing.
So why do I stick it?
The money’s so lame.
They always need someone to blame.

A Van Courier Driver.
I am a van courier driver
It’s not an easy life
I’m either stuck in traffic
Or the parking wardens are giving me strife.
Each day I do the usual hours
Through smog filled towns come shine or showers.
Some days are better than others
With plenty of distance work
I’d like to be an executive driver
But I can’t afford a Merc.
So I’ll stick with my trusty escort van
That’s got a ton on the clock
And a dent in the rear bumper
Where a transit gave me a knock.
The congestion charge is crippling
Mini-cabs and taxis don’t have to pay.
I don’t think that’s very fair
But perhaps Boris will change it some day.

A Prayer For The Motorcyclist.
May the road be clear before you
May the wind blow against your back
May the sun shine upon your face
May the rain and cold not bother you.
May God protect you and hold you in the palm of his hand.