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THE MARCHING SONG OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS
Anon

(Sung to the tune of “Men of Harlech”)

Submitted by Ronald Mortlock

What’s the use of wearing braces,
Vests and pants and shoes with laces;
Shirts and ties 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,
Woad to scare your foemen;
Boil it to a brilliant blue
And rub it on your neck and your abdomen
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.

Saxons, you are wasting stitches
Building beds for bugs in breeches;
We have Woad to clothe us,
Which is not a nest for fleas.

Romans, keep your armours,
Saxons, your pyjamas;
Hairy coats were meant for goats,
Gorillas, Yaks, Retriever Dogs and Llamas!

Tramp up Snowdon with your Woad on;
Never mind if we get rained or blowed on;
Never want a button sewed on,
Go it, Ancient Brits!

 
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