Dead Men's Clothes

Hiding in my bedroom in summer that's good enough for me
 My friend the mirror wardrobe has the means to set me free
 And no one can describe for me
 The essence of this luxury
 I wear, you wear
 We wear dead men's clothes
 Hiding in the basement in winter that's good enough for me
 My dandy summer wardrobe has the means to set me free
 And no one can explain to me
 This need for ancient finery
 I wear you wear we wear dead men's clothes
 Oh how I wish that my tailoring was fashionable
 Congenial and accepted by the world
 Instead I hide in murky basementslurking in the dark
 And I inhale the musty odours of the dead
 Dining all alone in splendour that's good enough for me
 My literary friends are here to keep me company
 So George and Harris eat their fill, and Mr Polly pays the bill
 I wear, they wear, we wear dead men's clothes
 Oh how I wish that the odour of my wardrobe
 Did not bar me from polite society
 Instead of endless conversations with myself
 And the silent approval of the grave
 Walking down the streets in summer that's good enough for me
 Arm in arm we'll face the world in all it's jealousy
 And people still in bed at home
 Will wish they had lives of their own
 I wear – you wear – we wear dead men's clothes
 I wear – you wear-we wear dead men's clothes
 I wear – you wear – we wear – they fear
 I wear – you wear – they wish they wore
 I wear – you wear – we wear dead men's clothes!