I like my clothes dirt cheap
Squeezing the last threads
Out of cast offs,
Walking in dead men's shoes
It's a feather in my cap
The clothes don't care
They're anyone's for the taking
I'm a sheep
In other sheep's clothing
Who gives a fig leaf for cost?
Clothes don't die,
They only wear away
My glad rags are the cat's pyjamas
I've got no time
For the fur coat and no knickers brigade
You know the type
All mouth and no trousers
Always got a bee in their bonnet about something
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
I'm no fashion victim
I handle life with kid gloves
I buckle down
Best bib and tucker
I'm cannie
Always wear belt and braces
Look at you in your glad rags,
My family tell me
I say, If the shoe fits, wear it.
But keep that under your hat
When I pop my clogs
Put on my wooden overcoat
My glad rags will pass on
To another wearer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. I guess when one gets older who gives a hoot is the suit suits you too. As long as it kinda hangs on you decently. I am like that too. Not bothered