War March of the Ancient Britons

What's the use of vests and braces,
Underwear and boots with laces,
Spats and hats you buy in places
Down in Brompton Road?
What's the use of shirts of cotton?
Studs that always get forgotten?
Such a state of things is rotten,
Better far is WOAD!
Woad's the thing to show men!
Woad to scare your foemen!
Boil it to a brilliant blue,
And rub it on your back and your abdomen.
Ancient Briton never hit on
Anything as good as woad to fit on
Elbows, knees, or what you sit on,
Tailors you be blowed!

Romans came across the channel,
All wrapped up in tin and flannel,
Half a pint of woad a man'll
Dress us more than these.
Saxons, you can waste your stitches,
Building beds for bugs in britches
We have woad on our skin, which is
Not a trap 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 you get rained or blowed on
Never want a button sewed on,
Go it, Ancient B's

The War March of the Ancient Britons

To the Tune of 'Men of Harlech'