| 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!
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