When I was fresher faced than now

And needed ways to fill my nights 

I'd get the Eddie Stobart out

While big boys put the world to rights.

 

I sped along the window sill 

Scything down all ants in sight 

It seems a somewhat twisted thrill 

When looked at in a different light.

 

Fretful faces watched me play,

Distracted by the TV screen;

The bomb set off by Tim McVeigh

Had wiped a hundred lives out clean. 

 

A truck, a little bit like mine

Would strike again on Bastille Day.

A massacre of humankind -

The ones I loved, just miles away.

 

A phonecall put my mind at rest

But only for a nano second

Sweepers couldn't clean this mess

Another such disaster beckoned

 

Next Berlin and then Stockholm,

Where trucks were vehicles for hate 

Not miniatures in village homes

Or items sold at summer fetes.

 

The Eddie Stobart's stashed away 

Its insect swatting days are through 

My truck's not coming out to play

And frankly, I'm reluctant too.