The renfaire life is full of strife, for all the courtly dames.
By corset, hoops, and layers thick, we are painfully restrained.
Throughout the day we do our best, to keep our knees tight crossed,
For if we find we needs must pee, then everything is lost.

So, I'm holding in my wee, good lord. I'm holding in my wee.
Won't lift my gown to pull knickers down, I'm holding in my wee.

The heat of day cannot keep away, that old familiar urge.
By half past noon there's impending doom, of a mighty need to purge.
It matters not how much help we've got, to navigate the loo.
Your waist won't bend to clean your end, be it one, or much less two.

So, I'm holding in my wee, good lord. I'm holding in my wee.
Won't lift my gown to pull knickers down, I'm holding in my wee.

With the setting sun, our day is done, and that sweet release, we seek.
The darkening sky sees lacings fly, all while stifling a leak.
We've come this far with a full bladder, now it's time to take our seat,
But the needed flow is painfully slow, as the seal it feels defeat.

No more holding in my wee, good lord. No more holding in my wee.
I've doffed my gown, pulled my knickers down, I finally get to pee.

No more holding in my wee, good lord. No more holding in my wee.
I've doffed my gown, pulled my knickers down, I finally get to pee.