Tomzy’s Shitbox Patrol

[Verse 1]
Big fella Tomzy
Couch king crown on his head
Got a rusted old Patrol
Stuck dead in the shed
License? Nah mate
He just laughs it off
Says, “Why would I drive
When my missus is the boss?”
[Chorus]
Tomzy and his shitbox Patrol
Ain’t goin’ nowhere, but he’s on a roll
Bundy in his hand, then he’s losin’ control
Face down snorin’ on the lounge again
His lady’s got the keys, she’s runnin’ the show
He’s ridin’ shotgun everywhere they go
Big heart, big gut, small self-control
That’s my mate
And his shitbox Patrol
[Verse 2]
Missus in the driver’s seat
She’s the man of the house
She’s payin’ all the rego
He’s passin’ out on the couch
Says, “I’ll fix that Patrol”
While he cracks another can
By the time that rum’s gone
He’s a horizontal man (ooh yeah)
[Chorus]
Tomzy and his shitbox Patrol
Ain’t goin’ nowhere, but he’s on a roll
Bundy in his hand, then he’s losin’ control
Face down snorin’ on the lounge again
His lady’s got the keys, she’s runnin’ the show
He’s ridin’ shotgun everywhere they go
Big heart, big gut, small self-control
That’s my mate
And his shitbox Patrol
[Bridge]
One day he’ll fix that ute, he swears
Soon as he finds some sober spares
Till then he’ll raise that plastic cup
And drink those big dreams up (hey!)
[Chorus]
Tomzy and his shitbox Patrol
Ain’t goin’ nowhere, but he’s on a roll
Bundy in his hand, then he’s losin’ control
Face down snorin’ on the lounge again
His lady’s got the keys, she’s runnin’ the show
He’s ridin’ shotgun everywhere they go
Big laugh, big love, poor impulse control
That’s my mate
Yeah, that’s my mate
And his shitbox Patrol

country, Rowdy modern country rock, male vocals. Crunchy Telecasters, roomy drums, and a chunky bass groove. Verses stay storytelling and low-slung; choruses hit big with shout-along gang vocals and slide guitar fills. Bridge strips to acoustic and stomp-clap before a final, raucous singalong outro.