Page 67 of The Violet Raven

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

Lach wandered the village, his arse in the breeze,

Hands hidin’ his pride as he shook at the knees.

He shouted, “My kilt! It’s gone far an’ wide,

If ye see it flappin’, please tell it to bide!”

“Oh, where’s my kilt? Oh, where could it be?

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

He checked wi’ the barkeep as he came into sight,

“Was I wearin’ my kilt when I left ye last night?”

He laughed till he cried, and he started to say,

“As ye slept in the bushes, the wind took it away!”

“Oh, where’s my kilt? Oh, where could it be?

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

He ran to the pub where the ceilidh was loud,

But all that he found was a mocking wee crowd,

“If ye want yer kilt back, there’s no’ need to cry,

Ye’ll just need to jump up and reach for the sky!”

“Oh, where’s my kilt? Oh, where could it be?

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

They hung it up high on the tavern’s tall beam,

And Lach had to jump, wi’ a wobble and scream.

But each time he’d leap wi’ a huff and a shout,