Woad is me

The other day I was discussing Men of Harlech- a song which never fails to send chills up and down my spine- with a Welsh member of an e-mail group I run. The song is best known in this country as the response of the besieged Welsh battalion at Rorke's Drift to the war chant of African warriors in the 1964 film Zulu:




I was rather amused to learn that for generations British school boys and boy scouts have had their own version- a song in praise of woad, the blue herb-based paint with which the ancient Britons covered their bodies in lieu of clothing before going to battle in the days when they were the ones carrying the spears.

The lyrics go like this:

What's the use of wearing braces?
Vests and pants and boots with laces?
Spats and hats you buy in places
Down on 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 hue
And rub it on your back and your abdomen.


Ancient Briton ne'er did 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 armours.
Saxons your pyjamas.
Hairy coats were made 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 Bs!!

I'd love to hear a full male military chorus sing it a cappella.

HT: Wikipedia