Query for a Backseat Driver
Your directional demands are wearing rather thin.
They’re wearing out my eardrums. Getting beneath my skin.
Must you demand in public? Must you always nag?
Have you all the answers in your Mary Poppins bag?
Must you simply always be so self-sure and so stolid?
Is there no effervescence in your dependably solid?
You always quote statistics, so I would like to hear
what is the percentage of the facts you know, my dear,
that you think would fit if you stuffed them up your rear?