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Chris Moyles
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Lorrydriver
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 ass 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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 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
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