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Let’s get this straight, they are not green, they’re just like us instead,
So, let me introduce you to, the Alien called Fred.

He’s from the planet Zod, a trillion miles away
And when he passed the planet Earth, he didn’t plan to stay.
He simply needed some supplies, to see his journey through,
So, he planted his big alien craft on some land just near a zoo.
His technology located, the nearest place with life,
A little place called Helmsley, where the Yorkshire accents rife.

The alien could read minds, so the lingo he could copy,
But had to ditch his alien suit, for that would just be sloppy.
He first encountered PC Plod, with a mind of Yorkshire thrift,
The alien just laughed and said, ‘need grub lad, get me drift?’
‘I’d recommend the cafe at end of t’high street, see,
If you merely mention my good name, you’ll get a scone for free.’

He soon settled here in Helmsley, but his name would see him dead.
He couldn't use Yosolat so he chose to be called Fred. 
No one would ever fathom, Fred was never of this Planet,
As he runs the local hardware store, beside his wife called Janet.
I dare not even consider, without thinking ‘oh my god,’
Of the Helmsley migration, from the distant planet Zod. 

So, if you’re daughter’s marrying, a Helmsley bloke called Fred,
Just have a quiet word and say, ‘pick someone else instead!’

**PC Plod is slang for policeman.

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