For the mists were so damp and so chill,
And the wind grew so cuttingly shrill,
That at length I was fain
To in sorrow complain
That the kilt would me certainly kill—
A fact p’rhaps not counted upon
When they put me that Highland dress on.
“Yet though I the tartan foreswore,
And the kilt and the philibeg too,
And was able to shirk