You gotta wear wool in winter in the damp, foggy land,
walking through the streets in a hard-driving rain.
If you’re just wearing cotton, you’re kind of f*cked:
Cotton don’t wick water; off it won’t drain.

“Owww!”
Wear wool in London.
“Owww!”

“Owww!”
Wear wool in London.
“Owww!”

And as your clothes get soaked, you will be bitchin’ more;
wetted soon is your skin.
Skin and raiment are both inundated…not too bright.
Wear wool in London, my friend.

D’oh!
Wear wool in London.
D’oh!

D’oh!
Wear wool in London.
D’oh!

Now your hair’s completely wet, and you begin to fret
that you might start to succumb to chilblains.
Your cotton raiment is too thin;
this stuff might do you in—
at dressing you’re a failure!

Sooo…
Wear wool in London,
Yooo!

Sooo…
Wear wool in London,
Yooo!

When it’s foggy-rainy, walking outside means
you gotta wear wool in London.
Befogged of brain, you loony—walking outside means
you gotta wear wool in London.
And if you wear wool, shrinking of pene, granadas won’t be so quick…
warm pair and purpose.

[Be]looow.
Wear wool in London,
’looow.

’looow.
Wear wool in London.
’looow.