I just down from the Isle of Skye
I'm no very big but I'm awful shy
All the la**ies 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 la**ies 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 la**ies 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?"