The poem
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!