In no particular order...
We all hate Leeds and Leeds and Leeds, Leeds and Leeds and Leeds, and Leeds and Leeds and Leeds and Leeds,
We all fooking hate Leeds.
Where's your handbag Charlie George?
Come all without, come all within,
You've not seen nothing like the mighty Wynn - Davies!
Colin Bell, Francis Lee, Rodney Marsh and Summerbee,
nah nah nah nah,
nah nah nah,
nah nah.
Asa Hartford, Asa Hartford, nah nah nah, nah nah
(bit of a nah nah theme developing here!)
C-C-C-Crossan
C-C-C-Crossan
He's the greatest inside forward in the land.
We're forever throwing bottles, pretty bottles in the air,
They reach so high, nearly reach the sky,
Then like West Ham, they fade and die,
Tottenham's always running, Chelsea's running too,
We are the Kippax boot boys, running after you.
Never understood this next one, makes no sense at all but it used to be sung quite a lot. I'm not sure I've got it right, but it's somewhere near.
With a bow-legged chicken and a knock-kneed hen
I ain't had a fight since I don't know when
Well I don't give a widdle and I don't give a wank
We are the Kippax boot boys.