A Song For Kilts

How grand the human race would be
     If every man would wear a kilt,
A flirt of Tartan finery,
     Instead of trousers, custom built!
Nay, do not think I speak to joke:
     (You know I'm not that kind of man),
I am convinced that all men folk.
     Should wear the costume of a Clan.
     
Imagine how it's braw and clean
     As in the wind it flutters free;
And so conducive to hygiene
     In its sublime simplicity.
No fool fly-buttons to adjust,--
     Wi' shanks and maybe buttocks bare;
Oh chiels, just take my word on trust,
     A bonny kilt's the only wear.

'Twill save a lot of siller too,
     (And here a canny Scotsman speaks),
For one good kilt will wear you through
     A half-a-dozen pairs of breeks.
And how it's healthy in the breeze!
     And how it swings with saucy tilt!
How lassies love athletic knees
     Below the waggle of a kilt!

True, I just wear one in my mind,
     Since sent to school by Celtic aunts,
When girls would flip it up behind,
     Until I begged for lowland pants.
But now none dare do that to me,
     And so I sing with lyric lilt,--
How happier the world would be
     If every male would wear a kilt!