WOAD
Tune: Men of Harlech

What’s the use of wearing braces,
   Vests and pants and boots with laces,
   Spats or hats you buy in places
   Down in Brompton Road?
What’s the use of shirts of cotton,
   Studs that always get forgotten?
   These affairs are simply rotten:
   Better far is WOAD.
WOAD’s the stuff to show, men; [Forte: show, men]
   WOAD to scare your foemen; [Forte: foemen]
   Boil it to a brilliant blue
   And rub it on your back and your abdomen. [Forte: -domen]
   Ancient Briton never hit on
   Anything as good as WOAD to fit on.
   Neck, or knees, or where you sit on,
   Tailors, you be blowed.

Romans came across the Channel
   All dressed up in tin and flannel,
   Half a pint of WOAD per man’ll
   Dress us more than these.
Saxon, you can waste your stitches
   Building beds for bugs in britches.
   We have WOAD to clothe us which is
   Not a nest for fleas.
Roman, keep your armours; [Forte: armours]
   Saxon, your pyjamas. [Forte: -jamas]
   Hairy coats were meant for goats,
   Gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs and llamas. [Forte: llamas]
   Tramp up Snowdon with your WOAD on;
   Never mind if you get rained or blow’d on;
   Never want a button sewed on;
   Go it, Ancient B’s.