I've fallen in love with a girl who sells petrol,
She sits at a till that says 'Pumps 1-9'
And if I can possibiy buy enough fuel,
That motorway salesgirl will one day be mine]
Whenever I give her my Access so shyly
And she smiles at me back and says, 'Anything else?'
I want to shout, 'Yes] I would like to go dancing
And swirl you around till we hear wedding bells]'
But all I can say is, 'A packet of wine gums,
And receipt for VAT purposes, please.'
And she holds up the company's petrol gift vouchers
And says, like an angel, 'Do you take these?'
Oh why can I not throw all caution aside?
Why must I always sit on the fence?
Why do I never just tell her I love her?
Why do I always say: 'Please, where's the gents?'
I've fallen in love with a girl who takes plastic
The loveliest girl that I've ever seen,
Whom I first met when serving pumps 1-9,
But has now been promoted to 10-18.
And I buy so much petrol and fags and sweeties
That I fear by the time I've captured her heart
I'll be fat and skint and reek of tobacco
And be selling my car through Exchange and Mart.
I've fallen in love with a girl who sells petrol
But I fear that to her I'm a face in the queue,
Just another man smiling and jingling his car keys
And asking directions to go to the loo . . .
Rather touching, that one, with a slight dying Larkinesque fall at the end. Love songs are quite common on the motorway - all that lonely solo driving. What is much less common is any regional allegiance ('Petrol Pump Girl' contains no hint of where in Britain she works), so I was delighted to come across a West Country motorway ballad the other day which fair throbs with devotion to Somerset:
Oh, she's the queen
of Taunton Deane,
Prettiest girl I've ever seen]
My heart's ablaze
When she wipes the trays
And clears away the last baked bean.
I've been to Newport Pagnell
And visited Michael Wood,
South Mimms, Aust and Gordano,
And all of them were good.
But there's no one there
Who can compare
With my angel in blue jeans -
That bit of heaven
En route to Devon
Who works at Taunton Deane]
Membury and Chieveley
Leigh Delamere and Fleet
All of them are lovely,
But there's one that's got them beat
'Cos if you've never been
To Taunton Deane
You've never seen my motorway queen]
She's taken my tray
And my heart away
And wiped them both so shiny clean]
But every time I ventured north
It took me further away
From a little girl in Somerset
Who holds my heart in sway]
So get your gasoline
At Taunton Deane
And see the pretty little girl I mean]
She's five foot two
With eyes of blue
My queen of motorway cuisine]
Before I leave this fascinating subject, I am delighted to say that the other day I came across a few more verses of what is perhaps the greatest of all motorway songs, 'The Ballad of the Middle Laner':
Oh, I'm a middle laner,
I love the middle lane]
I simply won't move over
In sunshine or in rain.
I go right down the middle
From Edinburgh to Staines
And refuse to even contemplate
The other two empty lanes.
So you may flash your headlights
Or audibly complain
But I will never move over
It goes against the grain.
Oh, I'm a middle laner,
I'll stay there till I die
And when they take me away in a hearse
Down the middle lane I'll fly]
(All this and more in my forthcoming collection, The Golden Treasury of Motorway Verse.)Reuse content