"Tough luck to the trucks!" he was foppishly humming.
"They're finding out now that no fuel is coming!

They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!
Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
Then the truckers in Truckville will all cry boo-hoo!

That's a noise," grinned Trudeau, "that I simply must hear!"
He paused, and Trudeau put a hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low, then it started to grow.

But this sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded glad!

Every trucker in Truckville, the tall and the small,
Was honking without any fuel at all!

He hadn't stopped honking from coming! It came!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And Trudeau, with his high heels ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling. "How could it be so?

It came without diesel! It came without food!
It came without kerosene, petrol, or crude!"

He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore.
Then Trudeau thought of something he hadn't before.

Maybe freedom, he thought, doesn't come from the state.
Maybe truckers, perhaps, will make Canada great!

And what happened then? Well, in Truckville they say
That Trudeau's tailored pants filled with feces that day!