And he swore by Almighty Selwyn Lloyd
He'd get back the tripe works
From the terrible horde of Ghengis Ackroyd.
They joined in battle at Brighouse
And tripe workers died under a hail Of high explosive Yorkshire pudding,
It seemed all was lost
Then all of a sudding
They were face to face, Attila and his great foe.
It was a fight to the death that neither could avoid;
For two years they stood toe to toe,
Attila O'Hun and Ghengis Ackroyd.
Then Attila drew his black pudding
And slew Ghengis Ackroyd where he stood;
So perished the evil ruler of the Mohammedan Empire of Dewsbury,
So was spilt the Ackroyd blood.
The men of Levenshulme took their factory back,
Once more they were employed,
And the western world no longer stood in fear
Of the terrible horde of Ghengis Ackroyd.


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