“My name is Mack.
It’s printed on my cap.
What did you figure:
Toro, Peterbilt, Coors?
I see ‘K.M.I.’ on yours,
And what does that mean—
‘Kentucky Mental Institute?’
By the hang of your jaw there’s no
dispute.
Damn, you’re touchy! Working up
a heat.
Hell, Old Son, I’d as soon fight
as eat.
But I need to shove on to Atlanta,
Can’t blow a minute on fists or banter;
Got to get my rig rolling, no time for foes,
And coming from Big Mack that’s no lie,
So bye-bye, Bozo—I mean K.M.I.—
Don’t go sticking no beans up your nose.”