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 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 lassies shout hello
"Donald where´s yer troosers"