I was drivin’ in Virginia and I tried to read a sign,
But the sign that I was lookin’ at was hidin’ in behin’
A branch with purty leaves attached (it’s early fall still, there—
No icy wind, no winter coats, no snowflakes in the air).
I’d’a liked to knowed what legal speed my car was s’posedta drive
To keep at bay the state police—and oh yeah, stay alive—
But alas, alack (and althatstuff), I couldn’t read the figger
To see if my speedometer said one that’s even bigger.
And all the while Virginia folks were blazin’ by this Yank
At speeds where you can watch the gauge get lower on your tank,
Leaving me quite much impressed Virginians have immunity
From their speed traps—which they seem to flout at every opportunity.
Well, I didn’t get a ticket—I escaped there safe and sound,
Though with sign-obscuring leafy trees the highways there abound.
Now, you maybe think the story’s kinda boring with no horror;
But I’m just glad I’m home, alive—and not a fortune poorer.
—A. Yank Mouse