" Donald, Where's Your Trousers?"

I just down from the Isle of Skye 
I'm no very big but I'm awful shy 
All the lassies shout as I walk by, 
"Donald, Where's Your Trousers?"

Let the wind blow high and the wind blow low 
Through the streets in my kilt I go 
All the lassies cry, "Hello! 
Donald, where's your trousers?"

I went to a fancy ball 
It was slippery in the hall 
I was afeared that I may fall 
Because I nay had on trousers

I went down to London town 
To have a little fun in the underground 
All the Ladies turned their heads around, saying, 
"Donald, where's your trousers?"

The lassies love me every one 
But they must catch me if they can 
You canna put the breeks on a highland man, saying, 
"Donald, where's your trousers?"

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