Kilted For Her Pleasure

by Marc Gunn

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badger153 This is probably my favorite Marc Gunn song. I have a twisted sense of humor and this song always makes me smile. Favorite track: Close Your Eyes (Demon Lullaby).
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    Why do so many people love kilts so much? There are many compelling reasons to wear a kilt as a man. That's why this is our best-selling t-shirt. It is every kilt-wearer's dream.

    Show others how much you love wearing your kilts with this black shirt combined with the stunning plaid word “kilted”.

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1.
I am young Scotsman from Am-er-i-ca The kilt is my pleasure it’s true You can call it a skirt, but your lady will flirt If she has a chance she’ll leave you. I’m kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted] With the mystery of what’s under there I’m kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted] Kilt inspectors will beg, to know my third leg Is free as the fresh morning air I have no red hair, but my skin is quite fair But it does nothing to show off my pride But my Scottish family tree, I wear on me And it makes the ladies giggle and sigh I feel like a man both noble and strong When I dance my kilt swishes in time. But I must confess, it’s for the ladies I dress And undress too. Is that a crime? So don your kilt my good Scottish friends And let your flag blow and unwind If they ask what’s beneath, your kilted sheath Tell them it’s lipstick they’ll find.
2.
A drop of Vulcan blood wouldn’t do us any harm And we’ll all hang on behind We’ll roll the old Enterprise along. We’ll roll the old Enterprise along. We’ll roll the old Enterprise along. And we’ll all hang on behind. A plate of Gagh… Neelix in the kitchen… An order from Kirk… A holodeck msytery… An Orion slave girl… A transwarp drive… Delta Quandrant… Seven of Nine… A round on Quark… Some Romulan ale… If the Borg are in the way, we’ll roll right over them.
3.
The maid went to the mill last night Hey-hey, so wanton! The maid went to the mill last night Hey, so wanton she! She swore below the stars so bright That she should have her corn ground, She should have her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Then out came the miller’s man Hey-hey, so wanton! Out came the miller’s man Hey, so wanton he! He swore he’d do the best he can For to get her corn ground For to get her corn ground The miller grinds so free! He bade her rest upon a sack Hey-hey, so wanton! He bade her rest upon a sack Hey, so wanton he! Her maidenhead went with a crack Right well she got her corn ground Right well she got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! It’s easy up and easy down Hey-hey, so wanton! It’s easy up and easy down Hey, so wanton he! She scarce could tell her corn was ground Right well she got her corn ground Right well she got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! When nine months were passed and gone Hey-hey, so wanton! When nine months were passed and gone Hey so wanton she! This fair young maid brought forth a son Because she’d got her corn ground Because she’d got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Her mother bade her cast it out Hey-hey, so wanton! Her mother bade her cast it out Hey, so wanton she! It was the miller’s dusty clout For getting all her corn ground Getting all her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Her father bade her keep it in Hey-hey, so wanton! Her father bade her keep it in Hey, so wanton he! The miller’s man was of a wealthy clan And oh he got her corn ground Oh he got her corn ground The miller grounds so free! This young man must have a nurse Hey-hey, so wanton! This young man must have a nurse Hey so wanton he! So the miller’s man drew out his purse Because he got her corn ground Because he got her corn ground The miller grinds so free!
4.
Close your eyes and sleep There are demons in your dreams Go to sleep my darling there’s a demon underneath your bed The Demons in your bed are going to eat you up Stay in your bed There are landmines on the floor. The demons in your bed are going to eat you up Sugar and spice and everything nice Why do you think we say that? So the demons in your bed will want to eat you up You used to have a sister She wouldn’t go to sleep The demons in her bed Ate her up Do not call for your mother; Who is it you think who let the demons in to eat you up? Snakes and Snails and Puppydog tails; Who can account for the tastes of demons? Baby don’t you cry or the demons won’t wait until you’re asleep before they eat you up My father sang this song to me But he slipped and fell on a landmine And the Demons underneath my bed Ate him up That is not a blanket. Goodnight
5.
A long time ago, way back in history, when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea. Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops, and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops. He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Curtis bar, the James' Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie's beer they sell so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O'clock ye stop for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5 A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick, the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick. 40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks. Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5 He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Lord bless Charlie Mops!
6.
Of all the cats in New Orleans, Tiziano begs the best If he’s not begging for canned food, he’s begging to play fetch To the begging he will go, will go To the begging he will go He jumps into my lap, And rubs his head into my chin If I don’t start to pet him, He meows til I give in He sits beside the broken strings, That I left upon the floor If I don’t rattle them around, he meows at me some more When I stop playing chase the string, He wiggles for me his tail Then brings to me his ball to play, If I don’t respond he wails SOLO He climbs upon my legs, Where I setup my laptop He circles once, he circles twice, Then on the keyboard he flops I wake up in the morning, And he’s sitting on my bed No wait! That’s Torre standing there, Asking me to rub his head When I come home Torre falls down, His tummy to the sky He rolls around and mreows a bit, Until I catch his eye Of all the cats in New Orleans, TnT they beg the best When one stops, the other starts, Taking turns to take a rest
7.
On April 16, 1746, the rightful heir to throne of England, The Bonnie Prince Charles Edward Stewart’s army was defeated at Culloden Moor by the Duke of Cumberland. This single battle wiped out the traditional clan system that had been a part of the Highland culture for centuries. It also marked the beginning of one of the most dreadful periods of ethnic cleansing in Scotland that became known as The Highland Clearances. The Duke of Cumberland gave no quarter to the Highlanders at Culloden. Every last one was executed. Then Cumberland began sweeping the country and executing Highlanders. Those who were not executed fled to Ireland and America. The bagpipes and wearing the tartan were banned as part of ‘Proscription Act’ (also known as the ‘Black Act’) of 1746. The Proscription Act was repealed in 1782 thanks in part to books in the people like Sir Walter Scott who romanticized the Highland tradition. Many of the Lowlanders began tracing their Highland ancestry. Then on May 6, 1805, a small group of Scots in Glasow rose up against the English oppression and declared May 6th as No Troosers Day. They cast off their pants, donned their kilts, and rewrote an old Scottish drinking song to celebrate this day. Like many such rebellions, it was quickly defeated. All remnants of this tragic No Troosers Day Clearance were obliterated from history. Only a single broadsheet, located in the home of Angus MacDonald of Glasgow, remains that testifies to the horrible atrocities endured and the fact that Scotland was in actuality the originator of the No Pants Day celebration.
8.
Oh my name is Jock Stuart, I´m a trooser-less man And my roving young fellows move freely –chorus– So be easy and free in nae boxers or briefs I´m a man who wears a kilt every day. I´m Highlander made and a piper to trade And the tartan is me flag that I wear. I go out with my gun and my dog for to hunt Try to make me wear troosers, and you’ll pay. I´ve got acres of land, I´ve got ships to command So burn your pants on No Troosers Day So come fill up my glass with whiskey or rum Then send o’er your lass and you’ll see. –last chorus– It’s better easy and free in nae boxers or briefs I´m a man who wears a kilt every day.
9.
The 14th day of February’s for Saint Valentine September 29th is when Saint Michael’s faithful dine On April 23rd we hail Saint George without restraint And come November 1st we cheer for EV’RY bloody saint But none of those can claim the very BEST day of the year ‘Cause on March 17th we praise the patron saint of BEER! [Cheers: “Hail St Patrick!” “Slainte!” etc.] But wait! Don’t cheer for greenish beer or Irish cream liqueur Be-cause the man you toast was one devout tee-to-tal-ER! Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!) Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!) ‘Twas only clear, unleaded stuff he poured into his tank! He’d take the cash YOU spend for drafts and stash it in the bank! (Hooray!) Heroic, true, but STOIC too! Saint Patrick never drank! He strode with ancient war-ri-ors from coast to plain to highland His staff he’d shake till ev’ry snake was banished from the island He taught his fans the shamrock stands for Father, Son, and Spirit But don’t break out the Guinness Stout – the man would not go near it! Saint Patrick didn’t drink! (Hey!) Saint Patrick didn’t drink! (Hey!) He never tossed a bracer back or teetered on the brink! So pour another tall one, lad, then pour it down the sink! (Hooray!) With piety, SOBRIETY! Saint Patrick didn’t drink! Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!) Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!) So let’s be frank: When asked his fav’rite beer, he drew a blank! By gosh, if he could see you sloshed, he’d give your tush a spank! (Hooray!) The guy was swell – but DRY AS HELL! Saint Patrick never drank! No, SAINT – PAT – RICK – NEV – ER – DRANK!
10.
Through thunder and storms, They brave the weather, Barely breathing And ensnared by leather. A trap is laid Of leather and lace All male eyes are drawn to... The Call of the Bodice! There's no hope for man Whether sober or pissed When he sees her eyes His choice is his bliss The supple roundness Of breasts for to taste He is a prisoner to... The Call of the Bodice! And no man can help But shake away a tear When he sees her shelf Hold and drink a beer. This is the barrier That he longs to undress The dreams of men who hear... The Call of the Bodice! Now men ye take heed When she glances your way Her eyes (above the mouth) Will save you from pain Divine their color Then you're free to regress When your eyes finally yield to... The Call of the Bodice!
11.
02:38
As I went out one morning on the fourteenth of July I met a maid and I asked her age and she gave me this reply: “I have a little meadow, I’ve kept for you in store And it’s only due, I should tell you true, it never was mowed before” She said: “Me handsome young man, if a mower that you be I give you good employment, so come along with me” Well it was me good employment to wander up and down With me tearing scythe all to contrive to mow her meadow down. Now me courage being undaunted, I stepped out on the ground And with me tearing scythe I then did strive to mow her meadow down I mowed from nine till dinnertime, it was far beyond my skill I was obliged to yield and to quit the field and the grass was growing still. Now the mower she kissed and did pretest, this fair maid bein’ so young Her little eyes they glittered like to the rising sun She said: “I’ll strive to sharpen your scythe, so set it in me hand And then perhaps you will return again to mow me meadow land.”
12.
igh atop a lonely moor, a Widow lived alone. An Inn she kept, and as she slept, her pillow heard her moan: “Oh, many’s the lonely traveller has spent the night with me, but there’s no a man in all creation gives content to me! “Well, some can manage once or twice, and some make three or four; but it seems to me a rarity is the man who can do more. I’d do anything to find him, in Heaven or in Hell.” And as she spoke these words, sure, she heard her front door bell. And the wind blew cold and lonely across that Widow’s moor, and she never, ever turned away a traveller from the door. So boldly ran the Widow, and the door did open wide, and as she did, a tall and handsome stranger stepped inside. Well, she gave him bread and brandy, and when that he was fed, he said, “My dear, now have no fear; it’s time to come to bed. “For I’ve heard your plea right down below, and I’ve come to see you right. But you must come to Hell with me if I can last the night.” She said, “You randy Devil! To this bargain I’ll agree, for Hell on Earth, or Hell in Hell, it’s all the same to me!” Now, as they tumbled in the bed, the Devil, he proved well… and he thought before the night would end that she’d be in his Hell. Ah, but when they came to number nine, the Widow cried out, “More!” And when the twelfth time came around, the Widow cried, “Encore!” At twenty-five the Devil felt compelled to take a rest, but the Widow cried, “Come raise your head, and put me to the test!” At sixty-nine, the Widow laughed. “Again! Again!” she cried, and the Devil said, “Well, I can see just how your husband died!” At ninety-nine, the Devil he began to wail and weep. He said, “I’ll give you anything, if you’ll let me go to sleep!” But before the morning light was up, the Devil hobbled home, and the Widow, still not satisfied, once more was left alone. She lay there on her pillow and she thought on ninety-nine. “It’s a pity that poor old Devil couldn’t manage one more time! I’ll call him up again tonight to see what can be done – with a little more application, we could make it to the ton!” But when she called to him that night, no Devil did appear. For the first time in Eternity, the Devil, he shook with fear. He said, “Of all the torments I’ve witnessed here in Hell, I never knew what pain was, ’til I rang your front door bell!”
13.
01:38
Now I have a little kitten and his name is kitty cat Make no mistake, he’s the cat I’d like to whack That naughty little kitty he’s been tearing up me sack And I’m hearing that he’s throwing up a furball Kitty cat’s downed me sack Eaten all my snacks and Kitty cat’s got the knack for getting in me pack and Kitty cat’s going back He’s playing on me wine rack And I’m thinking that he’s nipping at the corks now. Now that little kitty is too young to be a drinker He’s drinking my rose’ and his tongue’s a little pinker Now he’s got me ale, that dirty rotten stinker And he’s lapping all the liquor in the house now. Kitty cat’s drinking sack, sneaking all the whiskey Kitty cat’s falling back, looks a little tipsy Kitty cat’s dancing round, licking off his whiskers And I think the kitty better go to AA. Now he’s stepped it up, and he’s into all my drugs, He’s a thieving little kitty and he looks just like a thug, Who’d a thought a pretty kitty could be pulling such a lug And I don’t know if he’s using it or selling. Kitty cat’s cooking crack Looking like a junkie Kitty cat’s shooting smack Isn’t he a punkie Kitty cat’s off his whack Feeling not so spunky And I’m thinking that he’ll have to go to rehab.
14.
O' supper time was over As we left the Port Pub across the bay When we saw a frightful sight As the day turned to night An invasion like none you've ever seen. The sails fluttered with many colours. The boat captains, horrifyingly clean. Wearing Hawaiian print shirts, Sandles, and dock shorts T'was like a Yuppy Convention out at sea. Thus sailed the Sailboat Armada As the wind swept away the salt breeze. On the seven seas I've roamed, And no worse terror I've known Than 300 Yacht Club Members out at sea. Five ships led the race to dry dock Like the America's Cup with canons. When a bikini breasted lass Stepped up to the mast And was knocked on her ass by the shifting wind. Somehow I survived the Sailboat Armada Nevermore will I venture out to sea. On Memorial Day I paint yachts For yuppies to hit rocks As a silent war against rich conformity.
15.
(Won’t you) Pour me a glass Of Monahan’s Mudders Milk We’ll wash the mud away. If you poor me a glass Of Monahan’s Mudders Milk We’ll leave Higgins’ damn Moon some day. I was 12 years old When my daddy brought me here With two brothers who loved to laugh, But 10-20 in this muddy hole We lost the laughing muscle mold And my brothers lost their lives to mudders gas. My daddy raised one fist To tell the boss he’s pissed, Another to the foreman on third shift, But when he raised his shovel To protest his low wage troubles He was shot down and dumped in a muddy ditch. Well mudden’s all I know Until I’ve ‘nough to go And take my own three boys far from here. Maybe another place much worse In this here cold Verse Till then I drink my Monahan’s for cheer. Pour me, pour me, mudder, mudder, mudder me, Mudder, mudder me my milk. Poor me, mudder me, mudder, mudder marry me Mudder marry me my milk.

about

Kilts make people happy. Maybe it’s the speculation about what’s under them, or the thrill that everyone experiences – Scottish or not – when they hear Highland pipes and see kilts a-swirling.

No matter – this CD is packed with comedic Celtic music that will make you laugh out loud. Allow Marc Gunn – The Celtfather – to ensure that you will have lots to laugh about.

Sit back, pour a glass of something adult, and get ready to guffaw.

~~~
HOW THIS CD BEGAN...

Decked out in Scotland’s finest, I was leaving a pub show one night when a pretty young lass eyed me greedily. She was dressed in a tight-fitting leather corset that made her swell beautifully. She smiled suspiciously. I could tell what she had on her mind. It wasn’t my music.

Just then, her boyfriend walked up and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She paused, still eying me, before turning and kissing him back.

That was it. I knew why I wear the kilt. Yes, I like how I feel in it and I love showing the Clan Gunn colours to the world. But ultimately, that’s not why I wear the kilt. It’s that dark-eyed glance that made me feel like a man, and a sexy one at that.

~~~
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credits

released August 15, 2010

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about

Marc Gunn Atlanta, Georgia

Marc Gunn is a rhythm and folk musician inspired by Celtic culture, science fiction, fantasy, and cats--Sci F'Irish music.

He breathes new life into the autoharp, which continues to surprise musical veterans and fans alike for its unique sound and spirited energy. It’s like a satirical jam session between The Clancy Brothers and Weird Al Yankovic.
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  • Sep 24
  • Oct 01
  • Oct 08

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