There was something a-missing this morning As by the canal I walked round; The breeze it were colder, blowing over my shoulder, For the Old Tinsley Pots had come down. Come down, come down For the Old Tinsley Pots had come down. For seventy years they'd been up there Standing two-fifty foot high. An aesthetic alarm but not doing no harm Between the horizon and sky. And sky, and sky Between the horizon and sky. They opened up Meadowhall car park And the motorway closed on that day, And thousands joined in as the count did begin, And the Pots they awaited their fate. Their fate, their fate And the Pots they awaited their fate. The crowd held their breath, it were silent -- Before one loud crack and a fall. Then a sad distant rumble as the Pots took their tumble, But a big concrete finger stood tall. Stood tall, stood tall But a big concrete finger stood tall. T'was the north tower standing for Northern. Take that! to your power plant boys. But one more ignition to complete demolition, And the finger come down with no noise. No noise, no noise And the finger come down with no noise. As the dust settled over the viaduct The crowd they all cheered, then stopped. They'd been there so long, now this skyline had gone, And we thought of the mem'ries we'd got. We'd got, we'd got And we thought of the mem'ries we'd got. We called them the Gates to South Yorkshire. No sea front, no big fancy dome. Now we've cancelled our trips on planes and on ships, For fear that we'll never get home Get home, get home For fear that we'll never get home. Come down, come down, The Old Tinsley Pots have come down.
link for more info