Mush, great brazen bulldogs.
Snarl and steam from metal, radiator jaws
across the wind-swept highways of the nation.
Pull your packs through sleet and snow,
beneath the summer sun, or mist and fog below.
Awake and crack the ice-encrusted dew and
shake your manes and roar! Your shoulders
bear the bread and bounty of the land.
Rise up from lair and cave, from shipping yards
and factory lanes. Pull onward sleighs of sovereignty
to workmen sweating in the saw mills,
to business men who sit in the big-city banks,
to hungry mouths,
to man and woman and child.
You are the hounds that down the prey
and drag it home. You are the Eighteen Wheeler!

Written January 19th, 2007