The Charge of the Fuel Brigade With Thanks To Alfred, Lord Tennyson

19th May 2026

Half a tank, half a tank,
Half a tank onward,
All in the diesel queue
Waiting and worried.
“Forward for fuel once more!”
Governments thundered.
Into the price abyss
Drivers all wandered.

Half a tank, half a tank,
Half a tank onward,
Engines were coughing dry
While the clocks wandered.
Tankers delayed at sea,
Pipelines in danger,
Refineries burning bright,
Markets in anger.

Oil to the left of them,
Oil to the right of them,
Oil behind dwindling,
Stocks all surrendering.
Stormed by the traders’ cries,
Hit by inflation’s rise,
Into the furnace glow,
Into the queues below,
Motored the motorists.

Flashed all the warning signs,
Flared all the gas fields there,
Prices climbed steep and bare,
Drivers despairing.
While governments searched for ways
To stretch remaining days,
People kept filling cans,
Fearing the ration plans.

Oil to the left of them,
Oil to the right of them,
News screens in front of them
Forecasting shortages.
Boldly they crawled along,
Listening to each new song
Of markets surging high,
Wondering when supply
Finally faltered.

When can their tanks refill?
When will the prices fall?
Not while the conflicts rage,
Not while reserves grow small.
Yet through the fear and strain,
Still through the pouring rain,
Onward the traffic rolled,
Anxious and growing cold,
Waiting for calmer days.