“Hello, how may I direct your call?”


“Well,  I’d like to ship some books to Cherry Hill, New Jersey.”


“I’ll put you through to Dispatch.”






“So you have a load

 That should go down the road

From your abode

To the north I’m told


Big truck, small truck

Long truck, short truck

Dry truck, cold truck


One old truck still stuck in muck

Out of luck


Oh the Places we will go

With your shipment on the go

When the road is slow

And covered in lots of snow

Which would be a blow

To your ego, I know.


Some guys’ll stay

And some guys’ll stray

Some other guys will even pray

And do all this in  just one day


There are some  scales

Along along our trails  

Scales that we sometimes fail

Which could make you ‘oh so  pale’

Like when you speed and go to jail

Where you would wail

Until you make bail


His name is Sam

He has a plan

He hates those truckstops

With  green eggs and ham


You do not know

When on the go

The time and place to be

Unless you have some trucking software

In your decision tree

Which you can get

For a low monthly fee

So you can avoid the DOT



We had those sheets

That were all replete

And cells with many deletes

That did not link

And made us think

Too much I think

And made us drink

Too much I think


So book a load

For the open road

Beside the grass that’s mowed

And I will tell you

How much is owed”


“Um…thanks for that. Who am I speaking too?”