*
DONALD WHERE'S YOUR TROUSERS?
-Traditional
Well, I just come down frae the Isle of Skye,
I'm no very big and I'm awfu' shy,
And the lassies shout as I go by,
"Donald, where's your trousers."
CHORUS: Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in m'kilt I go.
All the lassies cry, "Hello,
Donald, where's your trousers?"
I went into a fancy ball
And it was slippery in the hall
And I was a-feared that I might fall
'Cause I had nae on me trousers!
Now I went down tae London town
T'have a little fun on the Underground
The ladies turned their heads around
Sayin' "Donald, where ARE your trousers?!"
The lassies love me, every one
But they must catch me, if they can!
Y'canna take the breeks off a Hieland man!
Sayin' "Donald, where's your trousers?"
*
