A little while ago I,
Responded to a post,
An Unwashed band question was,
Asked by the message host.
To that question I replied that,
A steamroller was my pick,
Many people thought that I was silly,
Or that my head was thick.
Not so, I gibber gleefully,
But I didn't know myself,
Why the steamroller was the instrument,
That I took from my mental shelf.                                                    

But I have reflected my since then,
Upon the steamroller thing,
And it strikes me a s quite an apt description,
As I do my thing.
Every day as a school principal,
I put my shoulder to the wheel,
I chug along with perserverence,
That I how I feel.
I try to motor right along,
And make the bumpy things smooth,
Like relationships and other conflicts,
I know you get the groove.
I move through each task quite slowly,
But forward I always move,
I get things done with dogged determination,
The way behind me's smooth.
I do not change for the sake of it,
But change when it is needed,
Because of my imposing reputation,
My presence is often heeded.
Oh my Lord, that's a bit conceited,
But I think it's true,
If you disagree with the last few bits,
I'll gladly listen to you.                                                    

But by far the most pressing case,
For the steamroller bit,
Is the driving force that drives us,
I share the same with it.
When you get right down to the tin tacks,
As is everyone's pleasure,
We're nothing but big quantities of hot air,
And both under lots of pressure!                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz