It seems that Sheffield council,
or filling station vendors,
don’t allow after hour workers,
to spend their well-earned tender,
as after our late song,
we needed to get home,
but every station that we passed,
we saw nothing but ghosts,
thus, dear Fox and I,
partook in some panicking,
but with ten miles left on his clock,
not as much as Glyn,
we circled around Steel City,
but no joy did arise,
to add insult to injury,
all we saw was soaring price,
but after roundabout,
we saw a gleam of hope,
our prayers were answered,
by a blonde girl plaited Pope,
both men and cars were happy,
thus, no more mental strain,
three cheers, for the filling station,
near Sheffield, by Cumwell Lane.