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"