Chris Moyles - Lorrydriver lyrics

You're a man Who knows exactly where he's goin' On the road With all your eighteen wheels a' rollin' You deliver milk or sand Or pigs or paint across the land That's what you do What you do, mister A workin' man You drive a wagon for a livin' Arrive on time Cos that's important when deliverin' Bread or bikes or garden chairs Or sheds or beds or dancing bears That's what you do What you do, mister Lorry driver, lorry, lorry driver You're a lorry driver Oh, lorry driver, oh You're a lorry driver, mister Horn, get out of Horn Horn, the way Lorry driver, lorry driver Lorry driver Eating sausage rolls and cornish pasties Crisps and jaffa cakes Drinking coffee and some red bull On your scheduled tacho breaks You work away For several days Life on the road You're a lorry driver Live behind the wheel You drive from Devon up to Aberdeen Pull off at the services For diesel and nuts magazine You read the Sun And have a saggy bum Everyone can tell You're a lorry driver Trucker man You crunch the miles to make a dollar It's just a shame You've got the body of Rik Waller You should be on Slimfast You spend your life sat on your a** But that's the way it is The way it is mister Off you go You've had a kip and had your dinner And hung up your New centerfold of Lucy Pinder You're the greatest driver Fuelled by Yorkie bars and Tizer That's the way you roll The way you roll mister Lorry driver, lorry, lorry driver You're a lorry driver Oh, lorry driver, oh You're a lorry driver, mister Horn, get out of Horn Horn, the way Lorry driver, lorry driver Lorry driver Eating sausage rolls and cornish pasties Crisps and jaffa cakes Drinking coffee and some Red Bull On your scheduled tacho breaks You work away For several days Life on the road You're a lorry driver Live behind the wheel You drive from Devon up to Aberdeen Pull off at the services For diesel and Nuts Magazine You read the Sun And have a saggy bum Everyone can tell You're a Lorry Driver Maybe if I didn't drive a truck for my work My wife would look like Jordan rather than Pauline Quirke And she does a bit, a little bit Lorry driver, lorry, lorry driver You're a lorry driver Oh, lorry driver, oh You're a lorry driver, mister Horn, get out of Horn Horn, the way Lorry driver, lorry driver Lorry driver Eating sausage rolls and cornish pasties Crisps and jaffa cakes Drinking coffee and some Red Bull On your scheduled tacho breaks You work away For several days Life on the road You're a lorry driver Live behind the wheel You drive from Devon up to Aberdeen Pull off at the services For diesel and Nuts Magazine You read the Sun And have a saggy bum Everyone can tell You're a Lorry Driver Eating sausage rolls and cornish pasties Crisps and jaffa cakes Drinking coffee and some Red Bull On your scheduled tacho breaks Lorry driver, lorry, lorry driver You're a lorry driver Oh, lorry driver, oh You're a lorry driver, mister