Denbigh Boy Racer, by Gareth Glyn Roberts

I'm a Denbigh boy racer on a daredevil drive,
Dodging all the traffic on the A55,
Light on the steering wheel, heavy on the gas,
Cutting out the corners in the Nant-y-Garth Pass.

Screaming up Vale Street scaring old biddies,
Circling the car park practising my skiddies,
Jet-fighter engine revving up the NOS,
Blacked-out windows, Hugo Boss.

Bright blue neons lit up underneath,
Fender on the front like a pair of false teeth,
Rear wing, big bore, spoiler at the back,
Turning our estate into a racing track.

I'm a Denbigh boy racer on the Denbigh Moors,
Wheels like ice skates, flame-thrower doors,
Hurtling about with a gang of hot chicks,
I'm a Denbigh boy racer ... and I'm eighty-six!

Flat-Cap Drivers, by Scotty

I'm an old age pensioner and I like to drive,
Holding up the traffice on the A55.
Flat cap steering wheel, all you see through the glass,
Because I'm bad at rhyming I call petrol GAS.

Stalling up Vale street shouting at the kiddies,
'Have you no respect for us grumpy biddies?'
Why the hostility? I am really at a loss,
Just because your older doesn't make you boss.

I'm a Denbigh boy racer on the Denbigh moors,
But I'm just as bad at driving as a biddy with battered doors!

This poem is in response to the predjudice poem above that assumes any young person who takes pride in their car is a 'boy racer'. ;-)

Women Drivers, by Kath, Wrexham

I am a lady driver and I really love to drive
Getting in everyone's way in my Citroen C5
Fake leopard skin steering wheel, contemporary jazz
Windows down through the town holding up GAZ
The wrong way up Vale Street sunglasses on my head
Taking up two parking spaces, very little tread
Haven't checked my oil in months, don't know how it's done
I don't go over 50 never mind a ton.