O, great drivers of the African East
We hate it when your van tires screech
You do your best, our destinations to reach
With rarely a seat turned brown.
When road sides switch you brave oncoming cars
Your passengers, screaming, hang on to the bars
Was that the door that just came ajar??
I think we should just turn around.
O, great drivers of the African road
I’m pretty sure we’re being followed
If only you would start to slow
Slow, slow, slow, slow DOWN.
We’re throwing up on your floors and your shoes
Our dinners we just love to lose
As through the mountain passes you cruise
At a hundred miles per hour.
O, great drivers of the African pass
You do your best to have the last laugh
At overcrowding and pot-hole-hitting, you’re top of the class
Can that music blast any louder??
But finally, and safely, and barely alive
We make it to our town, we’ve done it! – arrived
We’ll call you in a month to go elsewhere- surprise!
You, O driver in Africa, have all the power.
