God save the king whose cab's his throne.
He rules the roads while all alone.
His subjects are the reason why
he drives himself so hard.
He knows we need what he transports.
His ship on wheels goes port to port
delivering a priceless load
that keeps our lives afloat.
Both day and night, from state to state,
his eighteen wheeler navigates
all kinds of highways (weather, too).
This hero is unsung.
Kids pump their fists to hear his horn.
That custom has become the norm
when truckstops lure the king to rest
and fuel his mobile home.
So here's to those who risk their lives
while missing both their kids and wives.
May God protect this special breed
that makes our nation great.
* This poem is dedicated to Ross Johnson who passed away October 16, 2015. Peace to his memory!