MMario this was a tough one. My copy of this is a vinyl recording of a scratchy 78.

THE WAGGLE O' THE KILT
(Harry Lauder - recorded London, 1926, HMV (His Master's Voice) D.1112)

Ha-ha, I'll never forget the day I went and joined the ninety-third
The chums I used to run with said they thought I looked absurd.
They saluted me and gathered round me in a ring
And as I wagged my tartan kilt, they a' began tae sing

He's a braw, braw, heiland laddie, Private Jock McDade,
There's no' another sodger like him in the Scots Brigade.
Reared amang the heather, you can tell he's Scottish-built.
By the wig-wig-wiggle-wiggle waggle o' the kilt.

(Ah-ha, aye, I tell ye, eh?)

I'll never forget the day we were ordered on review
The King came down to see us and the Queen was with him, too.
As I marched past the Royal Coach, the King just shook his head
But the Queen put up her Royal specs and looked at me and she said

"He's very nice Highland soldier, Private John McDade,
There's not another highlander like him in the Highland Brigade.
I think he likes his porridge, look at the way he's built.
At the wig-wig-wiggle-wiggle waggle of his kilt."

(Ha-ha-ha- etc.)

I'll never forget the day we went away to camp,
The sun was hot and I drank a lot, I was nearly dead wi' cramp.
I'm very nearly certain sure I would've died that day.
But the thing that saved my life was when the band began to play.

He's a braw, braw, heiland laddie, Private Jock McDade,
There's no' another sodger like him in the Scots Brigade.
Reared amang the heather, you can tell he's Scottish-built.
By the wig-wig-wiggle-wiggle waggle o' the kilt.

(Patter:) Ah-aye, Ah tell ye, ha-ha, oh, I tell ye, tae march five miles before yer breakfast and five miles before yer dinner and five miles before yer tea, it takes a bit o doin', eh? Oh-ho, ah-ha, 'course, mind you, Ah've never done it, Ah'm only sayin' that it takes a bit o' doin'. Ah-ha, ha-ha. Oor Sergeant says tae me "Whit's wrang wi' the back o' yer neck, McDade?" Ah said, "Whit dae ye see wrang wi' the back o' ma neck?" He says, "Ye've got a lump there." Ah says, "Ah huvnae got a lump, it's a hump!" He says "A hump o' what?" Ah says, "It's a hump o' wool." Ah says, "That's ma undershirt, it's all gathered up wi' the swespiration if ye want tae know anything." Ha-ha. Of course, you folks here, you don't know oor sergeant, and a good job, too. Ye talk aboot a... oh, ye talk aboot a swank. Absolutely! Ah never…! Well, he's the pup o' the whole battalion, that's what he is. Ha-ha-ha! He says to me, "McDade," he says, "ye've got a face on ye like a Red Indian!" Ah says, "Ye've got a face like a red herrin'!" And then we went in for an argument, and then we argy-bargyed, and then ha, an' Ah said, "Ach, ye make me tired." An' then Ah swanked it across the parade, an Ah tell ye, when Ah sat doon tae ma broth an' ma bully beef, it was a treat, because the band was outside, playing for all it was worth...

He's a braw, braw, heiland laddie, Private Jock McDade,
There's no' another sodger like him in the Scots Brigade.
Reared amang the heather, you can tell he's Scottish-built.
By the wig-wig-wiggle-wiggle waggle o' the kilt.
He's a braw, braw, heiland laddie, Private Jock McDade,
There's no' another sodger like him in the Scots Brigade.
Reared amang the heather, you can tell he's Scottish-built.
By the wig-wig-wiggle-wiggle waggle o' the kilt.

(Aye, ha-ha-ha-ha, ah well, ha, ta-ta)

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 31-Jul-02.