A Song For Kilts

 How grand the human race would be
 If every man would wear a kilt,
A flirt of Tartan finery,
 Instead of trousers, custom built!
Nay, do not think I speak to joke:
 (You know I'm not that kind of man),
I am convinced that all men folk.

 Should wear the costume of a Clan.


Imagine how it's braw and clean
 As in the wind it flutters free;
And so conducive to hygiene
 In its sublime simplicity.

No fool fly-buttons to adjust,--
 Wi' shanks and maybe buttocks bare;
Oh chiels, just take my word on trust,
 A bonny kilt's the only wear.


'Twill save a lot of siller too,
 (And here a canny Scotsman speaks),
For one good kilt will wear you through
 A half-a-dozen pairs of breeks.

And how it's healthy in the breeze!
 And how it swings with saucy tilt!
How lassies love athletic knees
 Below the waggle of a kilt!

True, I just wear one in my mind,
 Since sent to school by Celtic aunts,
When girls would flip it up behind,
 Until I begged for lowland pants.

But now none dare do that to me,
 And so I sing with lyric lilt,--
How happier the world would be
 If every male would wear a kilt!

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