Give me, Dear Lord, a Road Roller

After ages of listening to devils demented, all frothing, itching at the collar;
After hideous honking at highways and by-ways from havshies that lean out and holler;
And pulling out hair out of weakening follicles, praying I was heavier and taller,
There is but one boon that I humbly seek of you, give me, dear Lord, a road roller.

I have but a few little changes I wish to make, Lord, a few modifications:
I pray for an engine Ferrari under the hood, and sterling configurations
That the roller fly faster than buses and autos (save me from these grave tribulations!)
And the honking and hooting and harsh klaxons tooting in consummate confabulations.
Pray save me from all of these evils, O Mighty, before I go choke on my choler,
Just a light one, a slight one, a green, saffron, white one, give me, dear Lord, a road roller.

I promise I will not kill wantonly, Lord, just by accident (oops!) at the races,
Where buses and cabbies and bike-riding laddies compete for all openings and spaces.
My braking-mechanism-deficient roller shall bring your name upon all faces,
When the front wheel will kill quick and clean while behind, the rear wheels shall wipe out all the traces.
Pray help me spread wide the good name of your kindness through muffled scream, crunch, and a holler.
Allow me to show these amateurs how it's done; give me, dear Lord, a road roller.