The Talking 401 Blues
Any members of the NDP who might be here tonight, all of George's furs were synthetic.
I'd like to do a talking blues song now.
This genre came about when people noticed that there were these bars where there was
somebody in the corner playing the blues and everybody else was talking.
This is called the Talking 401 Blues.
Well, cars zoomed by at a frightening rate with Juma Sugil on the license plate.
Quebecers wear those plates with pride. Ontarians think that means I can't drive.
Yeah, the fun has just begun on the body of 401.
An 18-wheeler with a heavy load just about blew me off the road.
Now I don't begrudge this guy his freedom, but where's Thelma and Louise when you really need them?
I guess hemorrhoids can't be much fun bouncing down the 401.
Well, there's a lot of roadkill out today. People shouldn't let their animals stray.
I heard a thump. What was that?
Oh, I think it used to be Fluffy the Cat.
Yeah, I guess she walked when she should have run across the mighty 401.
Yeah, there's a service stop every 50 miles where the food is bland and no one smiles.
You'll see the signs as you pass. They say, eat here and get gas.
Yeah, choose a wine that goes with tums when you die on the 401.
We're driving in the dark now, if you please, and buddy said, did you cut the cheese?
I say, no, this is normal. We're just passing Cornwall.
Yeah, Cornwall, where indirect lighting means the sun.
I'm glad I'm on the 401.