I've just come back from the Isle of Skye
Im no very big and I'm awful shy
And the la**ies shout when I go by
"Donald where's yer troosers"
A la**ie took me to a ball
And it was slippery in the hall
And I was feart that I would fall
Fur I hadnae on ma' troosers
To wear the kilt is my delight
It isna wrong, I know its right
The islanders would get a fright
If they saw me in the troosers
Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
And all the la**ies shout hello
"Donald where's yer troosers"