Kilts, Ye Ken

Noo, ye ken, we'll see 'em agen, Waggling doon the street, While the baton twirls an' the piper skirls To the beat of the marching feet. Left - right - glimmerin' bright, Buttons and cairngorms shine; While the pipes give forth 'The Cock o' the North' Ho! The kilts are in the line! Far an' faint ye hear the plaint Comin' adoon the breeze, Closer it comes, wi' the crackle o' drums An' the lift o' the naked knees. Left - right - was ever a sight Finer by burn or glen? Wi' the tunes ye know, like the auld 'Keel Row' Tis the march o' the Cameron men. Pageantry it ever shall be An asset in any land. But the lad who's built to carry a kilt Losh, mon! But he is grand; Steppin' along to some auld song Or a war chant tipped wi' flame. 'Tis the kilt - the kilt! An' the pibroch's lilt Callin' us - callin' us hame.