I've just got down from the Isle of Skye, I'm not very big but I'm awfully shy, The lassies shout as I walk by, "Donald, where's your trousers?"
Chorus: Let the wind blow high, let 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 Cause I had nae on trousers.
The lassies love me, every one They must catch me if they can Ye cannae put the breeks on a Highland man, saying, "Donald where's your trousers?"
I went down to London town To have a little fun on the Underground Ladies turned their heads around saying, "Donald, where's your trousers?"