O! the "leather" outside's acrylic,

And the label's in Cyrillic;

But since I'm a trifle stout,

Let it out!  Let it out!  Let it out!

 

O! the lining inside is dropping,

And the buttons all are popping;

But rather than go without,

Let it out!  Let it out!  Let it out!

 

When I finally shed this girth,

I'll buy fur, and expensive withal.

(At the risk of exciting mirth,

That means this could be my pall.)

 

O! my jacket is slowly dying,

But I couldn't dream of buying.

As long as I'm "roundabout,"

Let it out!  Let it out!  Let it out!