Some lad was doing ninety

in a forty mile an hour zone.

He passed me on a corner

In a car he clearly didn’t own!

What was the flipping hurry?

Was his stupid house on fire?

Had his brain been deprived, abruptly, 

Of a vital connecting piece of wire?

Or was he a founding member

Of a firm called ‘Morons for Hire?’

 

Some fool was doing ninety

In a speed restricted zone!

Such behaviour is now the norm-

The cops are all on holiday,

filling out expenses’ forms-

They’d never catch him anyway,

They’d need a rocket, I would say,

to keep up with boy racers

in their stolen souped-up cars!

 

Some buffoon was doing ninety,

‘NINETY MILES AN HOUR!’

Just like hot shot Lorimer, 

Of football fame from days of old! 

He's ignoring all the traffic cones

In a forty mile an hour zone!

 

Is caution now a thing of the past?

It’s not de rigueur to take one’s turn.

When young men get their daily kicks

From driving way too flipping fast!

Why will some folk never learn

Their lessons from the Highway Code?

Find your middle pedal fella

And keep death off the roads!

 

Some lad was doing ninety

In a speed restricted zone!