Y What the Nearly Dead Do

What the nearly dead do

You've seen them
You know them
Self-important old fools
With nag wife by his side
Heater on cool

It's a Morris
Or a Rover
So well polished, maintained
With his worn GB sticker
And well-addled brain

In the 20's
In the 30's
That's top miles per hour
Whatever the weather
Old wife's thin face turned sour

You're behind him
A little close now
Both their wing mirrors snarl
With self-righteous indignation
He slows to a crawl

We have Advanced passed
Best model drivers
It's our Highway Code
We are here to remind you
We own the road

It was at one time
Only Sunday's
Now every day of the year
You'll find us near Sainsbury's
Spreading good cheer

Wont go further
Wont go faster
Your lights wont you dim it
I'm travelling max 30
The National Speed Limit

We'll never get there
We'll never make it
You're all in too much a rush
Turn off your engines; be quite now
Let's have some hush

And if you question
Or you wonder
What makes up my life
It's my control of your driving
Both me and my wife

In agreement
In agreement
You couldn't drive worse
Wife's will gives full instructions
She back seat drivers her hearse

In the car park
In the car park
We come here every day
Slowing down all you traffic
While our lives waste away