I must filk it.

These are the times that try men’s souls. In the course of our galaxy’s history, the people of the Milky Way have rallied bravely whenever the rights of homo sap have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Milky Way Transit Authority, better known as the M.T.A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a far increase. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!

(Eight bar guitar, banjo introduction)

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charley
on a tragic and fateful day.

He put ten g-notes in his pocket, kissed his wife and family,
went to ride on the M.T.A.

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and
his fate is still unknown.
(What a pity! Poor ole Charlie. Shame and scandal.
He may ride forever. Just like Paul Revere.)
He may ride forever in those graffiti spattered rockets.
He’s the man who never returned.

Charlie handed in his gnotes at the Galactic Center Station
and he changed for Sag A Rocket.
When he got there the conductor told him, “Five more gnotes.”
Charlie couldn’t find any in his pocket.
Now, all night long Charlie rides through the station,
crying, “What will become of me?!!
How can I afford to see my sister in Nu Aquilae
or my cousin in P Cygni?”
Charlie’s wife goes down to the Galactic Center Station
every day at quarter past two,
And down the disk accretion she hands Charlie a sandwich
as the rocket comes rumblin’ through.
Now, you galactic citizens, don’t you think it’s a scandal
how the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase! Vote for Creede Lambard!
Get poor Charlie off the M. T. A.
He’s the man who never returned.
He’s the man who never returned.
Ain’t you Charlie?