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Children's Stories
by Margo Fallis
Ian & Mac Stories - Ian and Mac’s Neighbors


"I just got in from the Isle of Skye, I’m not very big and I’m awfully shy; all the lassies shout when I go by, ‘Donald where’s your trousers?’"

"Oh no! Not again. He’s singing again, Mac. That same old song about Donald and his trousers. Make him stop, please," complained Mac.

Life in the highland forests wasn’t always so great, at least for Ian and Mac. Several other animals lived in the same area. All but one was unhappy and that was because of Keith. Keith was a squirrel that lived at the top of an oak tree and all he did was sing. It wasn’t just singing that annoyed the other animals; it was singing the same song over and over and over again; day after day, week after week, month after month. Ian and Mac were tired of it, as were all the others.

Kelsie, a red fox, and her baby, Duncan, lived beneath a tree not far from Ian and Macs. One night, Duncan fussed from dusk until dawn. Kelsie was so tired. She’d sat with her back against the tree, rocking little Duncan, trying to get him to sleep. All night long, as the crickets chirped and the owls hooted, Duncan had cried. When the sun came up, he’d finally gone to sleep. Kelsie didn’t dare put him down, so she held him as he slept.

All of a sudden, Keith had started singing, "Oh I just got in from the Isle of Skye, I’m not very big and I’m awfully shy; all the lassies shout when I go by, ‘Donald where’s your trousers?’"

Wee Duncan’s eyes opened wide and he began to scream again. "Keith!" Kelsie yelled, "Would you please stop that singing! You’ve woken Duncan up again!"

Keith said, "I’m sorry," and stopped singing. Instead he nibbled on some acorns. Duncan went back to sleep and Kelsie shut her eyes for a while.

Later that day, Mac was sitting on branch, swinging his legs back and forth. He was daydreaming about the roast beef he’d found in a dog dish the night before. He could almost taste the beef. Suddenly his thoughts were broken by hearing, "Oh I just got in from the Isle of Skye, I’m not very big and I’m awfully shy; all the lassies shout when I go by, ‘Donald where’s your trousers?’"

Mac nearly fell backwards off the branch. He had to grab a leaf. "Help me, Ian," he called. Ian rushed over and pulled Mac back onto the branch. Mac was so angry that he climbed down out of the tree, ran over to the oak tree and climbed up to where Keith was. "Keith. You nearly made me fall. Not only that, you disturbed a very pleasant dream!"

Keith hung his head down and said, "I’m sorry." His long, bushy tail drooped behind him.

"Stop that singing. It’s very annoying," Mac said. He climbed down the oak and went back to his own tree. Keith nibbled on some acorns and sighed.

Kelsie decided to take wee Duncan for a walk after he’d awakened from his afternoon nap. Off they went towards the stream. Kelsie thought it would be a good time to teach him how to catch a fish with his bare paws. After Mac’s dream about the roast beef, he and Ian decided to go and rummage through some of the rubbish bins in the village. Graham, the deer, Scotty and Catriona, the otters, and Hamish, the weasel, ran off to search for food too. Seeing that he was alone in the forest, Keith sang his heart out. "Oh I just got in from the Isle of Skye, I’m not very big and I’m awfully shy; all the lassies shout when I go by, ‘Donald where’s your trousers?’" As he was singing it for the tenth time, his oak tree began to shake. Keith stopped singing and looked down.

Willie, a big black bear, was shaking the tree. He yelled up to Keith, "Would you stop singing that song! Please! I can hear it on the other side of the forest. I’m trying to hibernate and its very annoying!"

Keith said, "I’m sorry." His tail sagged down, his ears flopped and his shoulders hunched over. He picked up an acorn and nibbled on it.

Later that day, after all the animals had returned to the forest, they noticed that Keith wasn’t singing. They were all very happy. Mac climbed the tree and fell asleep, dreaming of the chicken legs he’d found in Mr. MacBettie’s rubbish. Ian climbed up and lay next to Mac. He dreamed of the coconut cream pie he’d found behind the bakery. Kelsie put wee Duncan to bed and went to sleep herself.

When the sun rose over the heather-covered hills the next morning, nobody heard Keith singing. "Something’s wrong," Mac said to Ian. "Keith never goes that long without singing!" They climbed down their tree and went over to the oak. There lay Keith. He was curled up in a ball and very sick. Every time someone had asked him to stop singing, he’d eaten acorns. They had all asked him to stop singing so many times that he’d eaten too many of them; now he was sick. The other animals were worried about him. Willie heard about Keith and came by to see if he could help; so did Kelsie and wee Duncan, Graham, Scotty, Catriona, and Hamish. That night Ian and Mac stayed up with Keith, nursing him back to health. Everyone in the forest felt sad that Keith wasn’t able to sing his song.

In the morning, Keith woke up feeling his normal self. He had listened to the others and knew that his singing bothered them, so he didn’t sing. But the others had gotten together and told him how much they missed his singing. They knew when they heard him sing that he was all right. They didn’t want him to be sick from eating too many acorns ever again. From then on, Keith tried not to sing the song quite as often, especially when Ian and Mac were daydreaming, or when Kelsie was trying to get wee Duncan to sleep. Music always seemed to resound from the oak tree.

"Oh I just got in from the Isle of Skye, I’m not very big and I’m awfully shy; all the lassies shout when I go by, ‘Donald where’s your trousers?’"


Note: "Donald where’s your trousers" is a song sung by Andy Stewart:-

I've just come down from the Isle of Skye,
I'm no' very big and I'm awful shy,
And the lassies shout when I go by,
"Donald where's your troosers?"

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?"

A lassie took me to a ball
And it was slippery in hall,
And I was feared that I would fall,
For I had nae on ma troosers.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?"

Now I went down to London town
And I had some fun in the Underground,
The ladies turned their heads around,
Saying, "Donald, where are your trousers?"

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?"

To wear the kilt is my delight,
It is not wrong, I know it's right,
The Highlanders would get a fright
If they saw me in the trousers.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?"

The lassies want me, every one,
Well, let them catch me if they can,
Ye canna take the breeks off a Hieland man,
And I don't wear the troosers.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?
Donald, where's your troosers?
Donald, where's your troo---"

[Spoken] Och well, that's the way we sing the song in Scotland. But of course the song might have more international appeal sung something like this: one, two, three, four:

[As Elvis]
Well, I've just come down from the Isle of Skye,
I'm no' very big and I'm awful shy,
The lassies shout when I go by,
"Hey Donald, where's your troosers?"

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Go, go!
Donald, where's your troosers?"

Oh man, I'm all rock and roll,
And I'm a-movin' and a-groovin' to save my soul,
Grab your kilt and go, go, go!
Hey Donald, where's your troosers?

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
Oh yeah, go, go, go!
Hey Donald, where's your troosers?
Hey Donald, where's your troosers, yeah.
Hey Donald---

[Spoken]
[As himself] Hey, just a minute! What are you doing there?
[As Elvis] Man, I'm rockin' it, man, I'm really movin' it, man.
[As himself] Well, just you stop rockin' it and movin' it, man. The song should be sung just exactly like this:

I've just come down from the Isle of Skye,
I'm no' very big and I'm awful shy,
And the lassies shout when I go by,
"Donald where's your troosers?"

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
All the lassies say "Hello,
Donald, where's your troosers?
Donald, where's your troosers?"


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