Thirty-three miles north of London,
There arose the market town of Dunstaple.
Where driving through on a horse and cart,
Could get you a dagger through the heart.
For destitute of every humane principle there was one,
Who went by the name of Thomas Dun.
For years along the great North Road,
He terrorised travellers as they rode.
Robbing and killing with his dagger by his side,
Until finally under the executioners axe he died.
So arose the town of Dunstable,
A name that is derived from a tale that is tall.