Ode to a Pumpy

I am a humble pumpy driving down the street

On my way to a job where I will pump the ‘crete

I’m considered a nobody, the lowest in the chain

If anything goes wrong I will get the blame

I pull up, look at the site and hope it will soon be dawn

Extend the legs, deploy the boom, stifling a yawn

Again the batch plant’s broken, the first load is late

Giving me time to get things all ship-shape

The first agi finally turns up and thing’s are looking sweet

Until the tester comes along and inspects the ‘crete

“It’s good to go”, he says but he’s got tunnel vision

The ‘crete’s too dry; so I make a common sense decision

And it’s not just the pumping, there’s the WHS patrol

And the parking nazzi wanting to prove he’s in control

The council complaining of restricted airspace penetration

And the overhead power lines threatening bifurcation

Architects and draughtsmen, interior designers too

Of their creations there is always much ado

Their flash and fancy productions cause an ooh and ah

The industry of construction always setting a higher bar

Breakdowns, weather, plus loads, the normal delivery delays

Every pumpy knows to expect those kinds of days

So unless it’s raining heavy we’ll always come through

Cos’ I’m a noble pumpy proudly wearing the orange and blue