I walked this battle trail a year or two ago and it's a bloody inhospitable place even without a blizzard and someone trying to stove your head in.  Said to be the bloodiest battle ever on British soil.

 

In 1400 and 61

I believe that was the year

There happened a bit of a fallout

With Yorkshire and Lancashire.

 

For brothers like this to come to such blows

It needed the cause be a good ‘un

But t’die were cast when a butcher from Hyde

Reckoned theirs were better black pudding.

 

Now Yorkies and Lanks come from the same tribe

Anthropologists have little doubt

It’s just that them west side of the hills

Are Yorkies wi’ t’brains taken out.

 

Then when we developed a new hybrid T

It got up Lancashire’s noses

“The Black Pudding Fracas” just didn’t ring right

So they called it the “Wars of the Roses”.

 

The armies they met at Towton that day

Arranged in long lines for the battle

The Lanks banged their drums and shouted “Ya Boo”

Typical Lancashire prattle.

 

Fred Trueman he captained Yorkshire that day

Who told ‘em “You’d best bugger off”

“We’re going nowhere till we’ve had us tea”

Said their captain – one Freddie Flintoff.

 

Well York won the toss and they opted to bat

Making 3 hundred and 3

The Lankies reply left them much to do

They were 60 for 4 at tea.

 

 At 80 for 5 they were down in the mouth

As Flintoff came in with his bat

“I hope that’s a good ‘un” sneers Trueman to ‘im

Says Flintoff “Four fifty plus VAT”.

 

Then Trueman he starts with his run-up

Resembling a steam train with hair

But Flintoff who pulls though his bouncer for 4

Says “Gi’ me a couple more there”.

 

They fought themselves to a standstill

Says a Lank “We’re at logger’eads”

Says another “Yer said this were Towton”

(D’you recollect what I’d just said?).

 

The field that day it were Yorkshire’s

We waved them Lanks Bye-di-byes

They ran that fast when they wanted to pee

They didn’t unfasten their flies.

 

This settled the issue for 20-odd years

Till we heard again Lancashire thunder

And this time they fought with a new button-‘ole

A brand spanking red floribunda.

 

Postscript

20 years later (in iambic pentameter)

 

Then Flintoff bowled so fast to Fiery Fred

He knocked his bonce clean off onto the ground;

Then kicked it wi’ ‘is boot and chuckling said,

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown”.