Converted Caravaner&;#063;

The telephone it rang at three.
"What you doin' mate"
"Im standing on a ladder lad.
Well start up here at Eight.

"There is nowhere for you to sleep".
Your'e working Here "direct."
I stepped down from the ladder.
I felt I could have wept.

The answer it was there for me.
Some'one was looking down.
Guiding me to Employment.
Workng out of Town

And so it was at Fifty Four.
To most a middle aged man.
I went out on the Sunday morn.
And bought a Caravan.

I'd been a driver all my life.
To me it was no strain.
I took the van to Preston.
I drove it like a train.

I'm on my own a single man.
Two berths is big enough.
It seemed to me as I drove on.
It's better than sleeping rough.

Working five or six long shifts.
Somewhere to lay my head.
I changed my mind "I wouldn't sell".
So I took it home instead.

Down to Shropshire fishing.
With the Caravan I went.
Not for me the Camping Game.
And messing with a tent.

Comfort and enjoyment.
Was mine just to be had.
I'd become a Caravaner.
And me an old Grandad.

England, Ireland, Down to Wales.
It never bothered me.
There's no way now in future.
I'd a Couch Potato be.