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To the tune of Men of Harlech, written by Flanders and Swann
Whats the use of wearing braces ?
Vests and pants and boots with laces ?
Spats or hats you buy in places
Down on Brompton Road.
Whats the use of shirts of cotton ?
Studs that always get forgotton ?
These affairs are simply rotton,
Better far is woad.
Woads the stuff to show them,
Woad to scare your foeman.
Boil it to a brilliant hue,
And rub it on your back 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 can waste your stitches,
Building beds for bugs in britches,
We have woad to clothe us, which is,
Not a nest for fleas.
Romans keep your armour,
Saxons your pyjama.
Hairy coats were meant for goats,
Gorillas, yaks, retriever-dogs and llama.
Tramp up Snowdon with our woad on,
Never mind if we get rained our snowed on,
Never want a button sewed on.
Go it Ancient B's
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LOL i always kind of wanted to have men of harlech as a soundtack in MTW when you invaded Wales
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oops - sorry - double post
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Ah - well here's another one for the Welsh.....to the tune of "The Ash Grove"
WELSH HISTORY 101
by Heather Rose Jones
If ever you wander out by the Welsh border
Come stop by and see me and all of my kin
I'm Morgan ap Daffyd ap Gwion ap Hywell
Ap Ifor ap Madoc ap Rhodri ap Gwyn
We'll feast you on mutton and harp for your pleasure
And give you a place to sleep out of the cold
Or maybe we'll meet you out on the dark roadway
And rob you of horses and weapons and gold
My neighbor from England has come across raiding
Slain six of my kinsmen and burned down my hall
It cannot be borne this offense and injustice
I've only killed four of his, last I recall
I'll send for my neighbors, Llewellyn and Owain
We'll cut him down as for the border he rides
But yesterday Owain stole three of my cattle
And first I'll retake them and three more besides
We need a strong prince to direct our resistance
Heroic, impartial, of noble degree
My brother's wife's fourth cousin's foster-son, Gruffydd
Is best for the job as I'm sure you'll agree
What matter that Rhys is the old prince's nephew
He's exiled to Ireland and will not return
I know this for every time boats he is building
I send my spies money to see that they burn
Last evening my brother and I were at war
Over two feet of land on a boundary we share
But early this morning, I hear he's been murdered
I'll not rest until I avenge him, I swear
Yes, we are just plain folk who mind our own business
Honest and loyal and full of good cheer
So if you should wander our by the Welsh border
Come stop by and meet all the friendly folk here
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LOL, don't know the tune, but the lyricsare funny enough on their own
