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Let me tell you of a story 'bout a man named Charlie
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On a tragic and fateful day.
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He put ten cents in his pocket, kissed his wife and family,
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Went to ride on the M T A.
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But will he ever return? No he'll never return,
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And his fate is still unlearned.
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He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston,
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He's the man who never returned.
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Charlie handed in his dime at the Scully Square Station,
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And he changed for Jamaica Plain.
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When he got there the conductor told him, "One more nickel!"
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Charlie couldn't get off of that train.
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Now all night long Charlie rides through the stations,
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Crying, "What will become of me?
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How can I afford to see my sister in Chelsey,
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Or my brother in Roxbury?"
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Charlie's wife goes down to the Scully Square Station,
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Every day at a quarter past two.
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And through the open window she hands Charlie his sandwich
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As the train goes rumbling through.
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Now you citizens of Boston, don't you think it's a scandal,
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How the people have to pay and pay?
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Fight the fare increase, vote for George O'Brien,
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Get poor Charlie off the M T A!
The proper way to eat a cinnamon roll is to just bite into it