Somebody stole my truck. I don't know why, cause it didn't look much. It needed new springs in the driving seat and there were always bits falling off in the street. But brother, beat the hell out of Walt. Somebody stole my rig. It don't make sense cause she wasn't very big. Got an eighteen wheeler with ten on the floor, just a six ton van with no back doors. But I miss her. She beat the hell out of Walt again. I stopped off at Mabel's place for a coffee and a donut. I didn't reckon much to Mabel's face, but she sure made damn good donuts. So I had three or four and then a couple more and then I had a great big slice of Mabel's mother's home-baked apple pie. And then she talked me into having one of them, their elephant's feet, covered in thick gooey chocolate and crammed full with fresh dairy cream. And then I had to go out in the washroom and scrape all that gunk out of my beard. And when I finally got back out in the truck park, somebody stole my truck. While I was inside eating all that muck, I went back in and black Mabel's eye and she knocked me out with a month old pie. And here I am, out on the road with Walt. Then I called up the police and I gave them a full description of my truck and they asked me if I'd checked out all the junk yards in the area. And I said, that's nice. I hope your siren gets stuck and all your tires go flat. And I walked on down the road for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles. That's when I saw my truck. I just couldn't believe my luck. She stood there in a cloud of smoke and steam, but to me she looked like a heavenly dream. I found my truck. And then I kept on walking. Cause right then I remembered just how much insurance I got on that old wreck. Now I can go downtown and give them that little blue and white Mac I've had in my arm for the last couple of months. Thanks a lot fellas. And you Mabel. Glad you stole my truck. Sure turned out to be a piece of good luck. I struck the beat up van for a brand new Mac, but I'll keep well clear of Mabel's track. Cause you know a good truck beats the hell out of walking. Yeah a good old truck beats the hell out of walking. Well I'll be coming past your place one of these days Mabel. But I won't stop. I'll just keep on going on down the road. I'll probably give you a wave. I may even drop you a note. Tell you exactly where you can stick your donuts. And your mother's home baked apple pie.