Wednesday, February 27, 2008

The Navigator

I sit with air of confidence
That atlas on my lap.
I've been through all the route before
I hardly need the map.

The driver has the harder job
Our lives are in his care.
He concentrates upon the road
I navigate, that's fair.

But the writing's smaller nowadays
Where is my glasses case?
I think we're on the green road here
Drive slow, it's not a race!

Which turning? That one! This one here!
There's a queue behind us, quick.
I've lost the place. B 409
Hold on, the dog's been sick.

Oh trying is the woman's lot
Who tries to navigate.
And if HE misses the M5 turn
It's MY fault we'll be late!

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