'Upon a hill, in Scarborough,
there was a day, filled with horror.
Twins were born, ugly as sin,
they nearly did their mother in.
With hair as black as coal at night.
What they lacked in looks, they made up in fight.
They'd bite and claw and draw blood
with eyes of malice, the colour of mud.
When their father saw their faces
he grabbed the best of his iron maces
and swung it round about his head
and crashed it down upon their bed.
The boy and girl screamed aloud
and attracted a giant crowd.
The mother decided there and then
to move away from flood and fen.
An idea that was not so dim
to move to the town of Nod's Limbs.
And there they are and so are we
the mischief they cause, we will soon see.'
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