Peterbilt Prison - Tim Wilson

Because We Need

More Truck Driving Songs

In StarMaker!

I was a truck-drivin', long-haulin' ladies man

My handle was The Cream of the Crop.

'Till a brouhaha over a 40-D bra

brought that to a screeching stop

My wife got wind of one of my girlfriends

Whose brassiere had the busted seams

And she changed my handle to "henpecked"

in a man-and-wife driving team

In a Peterbilt Prison

The slowest truck on Earth!

She's in charge like the 3rd shift guard

in a rolling Leavenworth

The highway used to hold a lot of thrills

Now it's San Quentin on 18 wheels

Every married mile is Hell

in this Peterbilt Prison Cell.

I wish she would have just divorced me

She could have done the decent thing

But now I'm in a his-and-her travelling nightmare

That might scare Steven King

Normally, I would just jackknife,

Crawl out and try to escape

Or at least try to bust these windows out

With this box of Ricky Martin tapes.

In a Peterbilt Prison

The slowest truck on Earth!

She's on me like Simon Legree

in a rolling Leavenworth

The Highway's like a hard labor camp,

It's Cool Hand Luke with exit ramps,

Every married mile is Hell

In this Peterbilt Prison Cell.

(Instrumental Break)

Back when I was free I'd do a hundred and three

Eatin' them diesel fumes.

Now I can't get 20 miles down the road

without huntin' for a ladies' room.

I used to make money hand over fist.

Son, I could put the hammer down!

Now I barely survive doing fifty-five

Haulin' her ass around!

In a Peterbilt Prison

A moving Alcatraz!

She'll whip us and beat us

and put us into ciotus ("kay-ee-tus")

every chance she has!

The Highway used to be a thrill for me

Now she's got me chained up under lock and key

Every Married mile is Hell

In this Peterbilt Prison Cell.