Donald Where's Yer Troosers?

I've just come back from the Isle of Skye

Im no very big and I'm awful shy

And the lassies shout when I go by

"Donald where's yer troosers"

A lassie 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 it's 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 lassies shout hello

"Donald where's yer troosers"