Ten mile to make a dollar my dad would say because that's what it would take on a drivers pay.
Long days and longer nights upon the blacktop he drove along the canyon wall to the orchard grove.
Gone at dawn away from home, walking in late when no more he would roam.
His wife is there at his coming and going, but the man's to tired to see care showing.
Ten more mile another dollar made, this is how his bills are paid.
Ten kids at home he rarely see's, only on Sunday can he feel at ease.
For tomorrow starts a new working day, and another ten mile for a drivers pay.
The next day has come family waves goodbye; while on the outside they smile, inside they cry.
Ten more mile is all he needs, for off in the distance home he sees.
Often over worked always under paid on his back this country was made.
In the distance on the road it lies, is where he carries this nations supplies.
Another mile gone another day past how quickly it flies until its his last.
Tears are formed and flowers are given for the one man who was truely driven.
And on his tombstone all it will read "our loving father" that's all it will need.
One little boy with not much to say, utters, "Ten mile to make a Dollar", that's a drivers pay.