When this place first opened

It was a science fiction wonder

A gleaming, glassy palace

Over the tarmac rapids’ thunder

 

At night it was a spaceship

In a ribboned Milky Way

Of Ford Anglias and Zodiacs 

With its shimmering array

 

Of magazines and wine gums

Pies and chips and peas

For modern minded connoisseurs

To bask in motoring ease

 

Peeling off their driving gloves

With palms of soft brown leather

To gaze at the marvel hovering above

In defiance of the weather

 

Now the shining Pennine restaurant

From a Jetsons episode

No longer proudly lights the way

For weary knights of the road

 

The spacecraft’s looking broken

The concrete’s looking grey

The hexagonal husk a token

Of more optimistic days

 

When everything shone brighter

In the sunlit sixties glow

And all the walls were whiter

Above the constant flow.