There was a great parody in the 70's, don't know who wrote it, and I can't remember All the words, but here's those I do.

The Rocker's Road to Brighton

Twas in the merry month of June me motor bike I started,
Bird stuck up behind the engine coughed and farted
Filled up with juice till she was really bubblin'
To hell with the rocky road or all the ways to Dublin.
I was bound for Brighton town me goggles I put on.
Put on me favourite frown my heart was really jumpin'
Thinking of the Mods those self appointed gods,
those dirty little sods that I would soon be thumping
Wack fol al de dah.

Cho,
Hunt the Mods and bash them up against the wall with sticks and stones we'll thrash the
Wack fol al de dah.

That night beneath the pier we rested limbs so weary
I didn't get much sleep and neither did me bird
We finally dropped off about the hour of three
But got rude awakening from the boot and knee.
We saw it was was the law, gave us all the jaw
Told us to move awa, or face the consequences
Was then I made a vow, no matter where or how
I'd get the bloody law deprive them of their senses
Wack fol al de dah

Cho.

After that my memory fails me.

For the puzzled let me explain a bit. In the 60's and 70's there were two "tribes" who hated each other on principle. There were Rockers who wore leathers and rode motor bikes versus the Mods who dressed smartly rode motor scooters and wore parkas. It became a tradition on Bank Holidays to visit seaside towns en masse, and fight each other. A tradition which thankfully died out.