The Wearing of the Kilt

The pipes, the pipes were calling,
And we cried—we were so glad.
What almost had us bawling
Was the way the groom was clad.
There just was no ignorin’
All that fancy Stewart plaid.
Steve wore a neo-sporran
(Never saw one on my Dad).

The bride possessed such beauty
As one very seldom sees.
The bridegroom was a cutie
With those knobby Scottish knees.
The groomsmen were the rarest—
Men who wear the kilt with ease
(Though they’d have been embarrassed
Had there been a bit of breeze).

I loved the lovely singing
With the Scottish highland lilt.
The music, it was ringing
Like when first our clan was built.
This heritage-Dad’s borne it,
I am sure he’ll feel some guilt—
The Stewart name, he’s worn it—
Now he’ll want to wear the kilt.