A
Man Could Get Kilt…
The Fourth Holy Ground Highlander Forum Midweek
Challenge
Archivist’s Note: The stories and vignettes offered here from various Rysher Forumlanders have not been edited or changed other than having a spell-check performed and being reformatted for this website.
A Man Could Get Kilt - Time for the MIDWEEK CHALLENGE
Posted by Leah CWPack on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 8:24 a.m.
For those who wish to participate:
This week's challenge is a musical one, although you could choose to simply approach it as a poem.
Compose a short song (any tune in your head is acceptable as inspiration, even if original). The only criteria are that it's HIGHLANDER, and includes:
1) Duncan MacLeod
2) Kilt
3) Allergy
Can be either serious or humorous.
Good luck!
Re: A Man Could Get Kilt
Posted by Ysanne on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 11:35 a.m., in response to A Man Could Get Kilt - Time for the MIDWEEK CHALLENGE, posted by Leah CWPack on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 8:24 a.m.
A Man and His Kilt
MacLeod and his kilt will ne'er be forgot
For wearing the kilt is a Highlander's lot.
He wears it in sun and he wears it in rain
Yet often that long, woolen kilt is his bane.
The length of rough wool wrapping round his proud frame
Can set his sweet, sensitive skin all aflame.
That smooth, golden flesh underneath the material
Gets chafed from the moment he eats breakfast cereal.
It itches and itches but he can't really scratch,
Til he runs for the hut and slams down the strong latch.
Then he lifts up that kilt and he gives himself ease
And his moans of relief float on damp Highland breeze.
His father outside turns all red and embarrassed,
For allergies are for ladies whose skin is the fairest.
His big, strapping son should just wear kilts with pride,
Not resort to this scratching and moaning inside.
"Ye're daft," Mary chides him, for she knows her dear son,
He's big and he's fearless in all ways, save one.
So what if her Duncan has a sensitive bottom?
All those who have teased him were sorry they fought 'im.
Mary thought and she thought then came up with a way
For Duncan to wear his wool kilt every day.
She ripped and she stitched and when she was done
Duncan's kilts had a petticoat lining -- each one!
He protested and blustered yet did slip one on,
Then a smile lit his face like a bright Highland dawn.
What comfort! What smoothness! How sweet it did feel!
No more itching to pester his stern and his keel!
"My son," Mary warned him where no one could hear,
"Just see that you don't tumble arse over ear!"
Ysanne
Answer to Mid Week Challenge...
Posted by Viking Lass CWPack on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 11:03 a.m.
I have no freakin' idea where I pulled this out of :-) Warning: hokey & corny, with a touch of comedy. It feels like a familiar song, but I can't think of what. I think it's the song Daffy Duck sings?? So here's a piece of writing that falls between, song/poem/cheerleader chant:
***************
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
He hasn't worn a kilt in ages
You'd hate to be a kimmie - when he rages
He's got quite a circle of friends
He's looking for happiness that never ends
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
Amanda's a thief who can make him mad
But it's she who makes his heart be glad
His trust & faith are placed in Joe
Who is a Watcher, a barkeep & no plain smoe
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
Then there's sarcastic old Methos
Who hasn't gone the way, of old car repos
He's got a friend named Cassie
Who he loves cause she's so sassy
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
Quirky friend & events plague MacLeod
His friend's death in a church, made him shout real loud
An allergy to fellow immies
Bothers Kit O'Brady & makes him shimmie
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
Robert & Gina are married many years
Marriage is one of Mac's primal fears
He's lost friends & lovers galore
His internal strength allows him to endure
Here's to Duncan MacLeod
He's tall & strong & proud
His fans think he's way beyond Groovy
But they're losin patience while waiting for the movie!
A try on the midweek challenge, please don't shoot me :-)
Posted by Dinah, being extremely *silly* on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 12:33 p.m.
It's sung to the tune of "Green-sleeves".
"The Ballad of the Clan MacLeod’s collective illness"
There is a Clan in Glenfinnan they call the Clan McLeod and the men of this Clan wore skirts just for fun and they were very proud
(Chorus)
They wore checkers in green and blue they loved design and were up-to-date the hunks of Clan McLeod were stylish and known for it in the whole wide state
Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod he loved his kilt so fervently but the kilt was of lambs wool and when it was warm he got pimples on his b*** because he had an allergy
(Chorus)
The others laughed and he got mad because he was the one with the trousers on so he went out and sheared some dogs to make himself a new kilt from
(Chorus)
So when he came with his nice new kilt the other were attacked by jealousy they went to their wives to get a new skirt all telling them they had an allergy
(Chorus)
My Midweek Challenge
Posted by Ciara on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 12:58 p.m.
My Mid Week Challenge (sung to the tune of Titanic's "My Heart Will Go On")
Every night in my dreams I see you, I smell you
Your blue kilt is in need of a wash
Far across the distance
My eyes tear, My nose runs
No I am not crying….my love
Near, far wherever you are
I believe that you make my allergies flare
Once more, don't open that door!
Oh my nose hurts so bad and my tissues are gone!
Duncan MacLeod is here, there's nothing I fear
More than you and your strong smelling friends.
Please go, I can't take any more
Just remember that smell will go on and on………..
Midweek Challenge: A Kilt with Lilt
Posted by Chimera on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 3:00 p.m.
Here's my entry. Tough topic but lots of fun trying to come up with something.
Sung to the tune of "On The Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady
I have often wore
A wool kilt before.
Now I'm itchin' like I
Never felt before.
All at once have I
A severe case of hives
Och, it must that new kilt
That I wore.
Some one could get kilt: My Attempt (rated PG-13)
Posted by Titania (I didn't read anyone else's first, I promise) :) on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 3:13 p.m.
(Sung to the tune of "Ntja the Wonder Dog" a song that I made up about my dog, which means I know the tune, but no one else does. :) Think folk song music) :)
"Duncan MacLeod Wears a Kilt"
(sung moderate tempo) Duncan MacLeod/ Wears a kilt/ (a little faster)Wears a kilt/ Duncan Mac....Leod(hold this out)/ Wears a kilt
(moderate tempo) Duncan MacLeod/ Is Allergic to Wool/ (a bit faster) Allergic to Wool/ Duncan Mac....Leod(hold this out)/ Is allergic to wool
(moderate tempo) Duncan MacLeod/ Really Needs to Scratch/ (a bit faster)Needs to Scratch/ Duncan Mac....Leod(hold out)/ Really needs to scratch/ (shout) HIS HOO-HAW!
(giggle, giggle :) )
Midweek Challenge: Entry #2
Posted by Chimera on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 5:10 p.m.
A variation of the My Fair Lady theme. This one's sung to the tune of "I could have danced all night". You just have to imagine Duncan singing it.
I could have scratched all night
I could have scratched all night
And still have scratched some more.
I could have said some things
I should have said some things
I've never said before.
Don't know what made it so
Excruciating
Don't know why my skin's on fire
I only know when she
Gave that wool kilt to me
I could have scratched, scratched, scratched all night.
Taking a shot at the Midweek Challenge - hope my aim is good!
Posted by JoMadge on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 6:11 p.m.
To the tune of "Bonny Portmore":
Oh, Duncan MacLeod, I am sorry to see such a woeful discomfort of your wool allergy
For I so love to see you with your manly, bare knees exposed when your kilt flaps freely in the breeze
All the girls on the Forum they bitterly weep. Saying, "Why can't kilts be made of polyester, not sheep?"
Oh, Duncan MacLeod, you thrive in modern times
But sometimes it's the flashbacks to clan days that we pine
...uh, for. *g*
Mid-Week Challenge Pop-Rock Style!!
Posted by angeleyes on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 6:32 p.m.
Set to the tune of "I Want Candy" by Bow Wow Wow
I knew a guy who's tough but sweet.
He's so fine he can't be beat!!
He's got everything that I desire.
Cept he sets my allergies on fire!!
I want Dunkie!! **I want Dunkie!!
Go to se when the Tavist goes down.
Ain't no finer man in town!
Kilted guy what the doctor ordered.
So sweet you make my mouth water.
I want Dunkie!! **I want Dunkie!!
Duncan on the beach there's nothing better!!
But I like Duncan when he's wearing heather!!
Someday soon I'll make him mine!!
Then I'll have Duncan all the time!
I want Dunkie! **I want Dunkie!! ***I want Dunkie!!! ****I want Dunkie!!!!
Wednesday again? Can't resist...must...oh darn.
Posted by vixen69 on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 7:17 p.m.
Song-in-head disease. It had to be a song, didn't it?
(If you don't know the tune, just hum along...until you find one.)
I need to see a specialist, A therapist, and analyst-- Maybe I need an allergist--
I'm breaking out in swoons.
When I see Duncan in a kilt, I feel my legs proceed to wilt. (I even feel some swoony guilt,
thinking about--full moons?)
I feel a flush begin to rise Looking at his knees and thighs And then I have to close my eyes.
(Couldn't he just wear pantaloons?)
Maybe it's the tartan plaid, Or the way he makes my heart feel glad (Or some of the naughty thoughts I've had)
That drives me looney tunes.
He really is a sight to see. I have to fix this allergy Or it's gonna be the death of me--
This breaking out in swoons.
Mid-week challenge The Legend of Heather *long*
Posted by Celedon on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 8:11 p.m.
I haven't been able to participate on these, sorry to say so here's a wee bit of a contribution to make up for it...
The Legend of Heather
Unbeknownst to many people, Duncan as a small child, learned the hard way on how to deal with difficulty. For example, there was a time when he was out with his cousin Robert. It came to pass that they had to take a shortcut home through one of the many moors that surrounds Glenfinnan and Loch Shiel.
During that time of year the moor was ablaze with the lovely purple and white blossoms known as heather. It was almost too beautiful to behold and Duncan stood with his mouth agape at the sight. Then he ran down amidst it all, scooping up handfuls to take home to his mother in the hopes that he didn’t get a whipping for being out so late and for being too close to the Donan Woods where it was said a witch lived.
He took a deep sniff of the plants, inhaling deep lungfuls of the scent. Suddenly, he began to scream and dropped the bouquet and ran around flapping his kilt, his eyes wild with pain. “ROBERT! Can ye not see that I need your help?” he screamed at his cousin who was bent double with laughter from Duncan’s actions.
“Ye look like a swollen, puffed up—“
“Shut yer mouth, Robert.” Duncan’s hands and fingers scratched furiously at every square inch of him that he could get at without removing his kilt. “Did ye think that this is strange? Maybe the witch put a curse on me!” His skin was now raw, not as fine looking as before, his face swollen to twice the normal size with his eyelids now bare slits.
Indeed, it was true. Duncan’s fine looks were greatly changed from a few moments ago. He was obviously very allergic to the heather. Great welts covered him and Robert couldn’t help but compare what he looked like to what his cousin looked like now. His boyish peals of unbridled laughter ran out in the air; he finally decided that they both had better be getting home. Duncan needed tending to, that much was certain.
Once they arrived back in Glenfinnan, they went their separate ways. Duncan stood at his doorway silently watching his mother weaving yet another kilt for his father and himself. All the time, he still scratched at himself and flapped his kilt upwards so as to get some cooling air on the welts which lay underneath it.
The motion of his kilt flapping finally caught the attention of his mother who took one look at him and shook her head. Her mouth firmly resolute, she went over to her laundry basket and removed a honking big crucifix and held it out in front of her. “Tell me the truth about what happened, my son. Swear on this cross that you weren’t near the Donan Woods.”
“I-I was gathering heather but the heather had other things in mind for me. I wanted to bring you back some since I was so late getting home with Robert. I-I hope ye are not angry with me, mother.” He gulped hard about ready to cry, from the incessant itching he was feeling. “Please mother, make it stop.”
His mother’s face softened at his words and in an instant he was forgiven for being late. She immediately forgot that he didn’t answer her about the Donan Woods but it wouldn’t have mattered. All that mattered was her taking care of her son. She turned the cross around and said, “Bend over.”
Duncan complied, fearful that the whipping he was hoping to avoid was forthcoming. Instead much to his surprise, the end of the crucifix was slipped up his kilt and through the neck of his shirt. He was then lifted and thrown outside into the icy cold byrne which ran near his home on its’ way to the loch.
“Bathe—it’s been a month since ye last had one an dit will help ye with what ails ye!”
Many years later, Duncan kept his secret to himself about his allergy to heather. He had found out the hard way that his immortality hadn’t cured it one bit. Over the centuries there had been other incidents that had made him wince in pain and absently scratch at in the memory of other encounters with the plant. So much so that even the name mentioned made him break out in hives.
On this fine morning, he was on his way to meet up with his teacher, Connor MacLeod. When they met, they embraced as they usually did then Connor remounted heading out in a different direction then what they usually took in order to have privacy for the necessary teaching of the fine art of survival and swordsmanship.
“Connor, where are we going?” Duncan inquired as he adjusted his kilt a final time before mounting.
“To celebrate a birthday I promised I’d do.” Connor looked off then back at his student.
“Birthday?” Duncan was intrigued. “Whose?”
“Heather’s.”
Duncan screamed at the name…
Another tune for the Mid-Week Challenge....
Posted by midnyte rumour on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 8:19 p.m.
Another wool allergy sung to the tune of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” ---midnyte rumour
Once there was a Highlander whose kilt was made of wool.
It kept him warm in winter and in summer it was cool.
And Duncan soon became aware bare knees made ladies drool.
Oh, yes, bare knees made them drool, Yes, they did drool, Oh yes, bare knees made them drool.
****
Although the ladies liked the kilt, the dear lad got an itch.
“This allergy to wool,” he said, “makes wearing kilts a b*tch.
I’ve got to take it off and scratch or go mad as a witch.
Yes, this allergy makes wearing kilts a b*tch, Does my bum itch! Oh, this allergy makes wearing kilts a b*tch.”
****
Off came the itchy plaid and then Mac scratched most mightily.
“Try wearing something under it,” said one drooling lassie,
“I’ll take my silky knickers off and give you them for free.
Oh, I’ll sacrifice my drawers for fuzzy knees Fuzzy bare knees, Oh, I’ll sacrifice my knickers for your knees!”
Green Haggis and Ham
Posted by A. on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 8:57 p.m.
"Green Haggis and
Ham"
That Mac-I-am!
That Mac-I-am!
I do not like that Mac-I-am!
Do you like green haggis
and ham?
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
I do not like green haggis and ham.
Would you like them here
or there?
I would not like them here
or there.
I would not like them anywhere.
I do not like green haggis and ham.
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
Would you like them in a
Citroen?
Would you like them with the Horsemen?
I do not like them in a Citroen.
I do not like them with the Horsemen.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere
I do not like green haggis and ham.
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
Would you eat them singing
Bonnie Portmore?
Would you eat them with a Claymore?
Not singing Bonnie Portmore.
Not with a Claymore.
Not in a Citroen.
Not with the Horsemen.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat green haggis and ham.
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
Would you? Could you? In a
kilt?
Eat them! Eat them! Before they're spilt.
I would not, could not, in
a kilt.
You may like them. You
will see.
You may like them with Richie!
I would not, could not
with Richie.
Not in a kilt! You let me be.
I do not like them singing Bonnie Portmore.
I do not like them with a Claymore .
I do not like them in a Citroen.
I do not like them with the Horsemen.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere.
I do not like green haggis and ham.
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
A flashback! A flashback!
A flashback! A flashback!
Could you, would you, in a flashback?
Not in a flashback! Not
with Richie!
Not in a kilt! Mac! Let me be!
I would not, could not, singing Bonnie Portmore.
I could not, would not, with a Claymore.
I will not eat them with the Horsemen.
I will not eat them in a Citroen.
I will not eat them here or there.
I will not eat them anywhere.
I do not eat green haggis and ham.
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
Say! In Joe's bar?
Here in Joe's bar!
Would you, could you, in Joe's bar?
I would not, could not, in
Joe's bar.
Would you, could you, at a
racetrack?
I would not, could not, at
a racetrack.
Not in Joe's bar. Not in a flashback.
Not in a kilt. Not with Richie.
I do not like them, Mac, you see.
Not in a Citroen. Not singing Bonnie Portmore.
Not with the Horsemen. Not with a Claymore .
I will not eat them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere!
You do not like green
haggis and ham?
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
Could you, would you, with
Amanda?
I would not, could not, with Amanda!
Would you, could you, with
Cassandra?
I could not, would not, with Cassandra.
I will not, will not, with Amanda.
I will not eat them at a racetrack.
I will not eat them in a flashback.
Not in Joe's bar! Not with Richie!
Not in a kilt! You let me be!
I do not like them singing Bonnie Portmore.
I do not like them with a Claymore .
I will not eat them in a Citroen.
I do not like them with the Horsemen.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them ANYWHERE!
I do not like green haggis and ham!
I am allergic to them, Mac-I-am.
You do not like them. So
you say.
Try them! Try them! And you may.
Try them and you may, I say.
Mac! If you will let me
be,
I will try them. You will see...
Say! I'm not allergic to
green haggis and ham!
I'm not! And I like them, Mac-I-am!
And I would eat them with Cassandra.
And I would eat them with Amanda.
And I will eat them at a racetrack.
And in Joe's bar. And in a flashback.
And in a kilt. And with Richie.
They are so good, so good, you see!
So I will eat them singing Bonnie Portmore.
And I will eat them with a Claymore .
And I will eat them in a Citroen.
And I will eat them with the Horsemen.
And I will eat them here and there.
Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE!
I do so like green haggis and ham!
Thank you! Thank you, Mac-I-am!
allergy haiku
Posted by A. on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 9:02 p.m.
Duncan MacLeod says,
"This wool kilt is so itchy.
Pass the calamine."
I've been wanting to do this for a long time.
Posted by Leah CWPack on Wednesday, 26 April 2000, at 10:50 p.m.
(It's always been one of my fave tunes)
(To the tune "My Boyfriend's Back")
MY KILTBOY'S BACK
"You rode along and kidnapped me
And bothered me every night
And when I wouldn't cooperate
You did things that weren't very nice"
My Kiltboy's back and you're gonna be in trouble
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
When you saw me comin', boy you cut out on the double
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
You been spreading lies that you were never blue
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
So look out now 'cause he's comin' after you
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Hey, he knows why I've been cryin'
And he knows that you been lyin'
I've hated you for such a long time
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Now he's back and things'll be fine
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
You're gonna be sorry you were ever born
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
'cause he's kinda big and he's awful strong
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Hey, he knows you used to slaughter
Now you're gonna make you shorter
What made you think he'd believe all your lies? (Aah-ooh, aah-ooh)
You're a big man now but he'll cut you down to size
(Aah-ooh) Wait and see!
My Kiltboy's back, he's gonna dish out retribution
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Pony-Boy, I'd stay inside that Institution
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Hey, I know you feel him comin'
Now you better start a'runnin'
(Aah-ooh, aah-ooh) (Aah-ooh)
Wait and see!
My Kiltboy's back, and you betrayed your brother Krony
(Hey-la, hey-la, my Kiltboy's back)
Have you changed, or are you still the same old phoney...?
Hey la, hey la...
Yeah, my Kiltboy's back
Well look out now, my Kiltboy's back
Well, I can see him comin' so you better get a'runnin' a'right now
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
My Kiltboy's back.....
Okay, I'm slightly behind, but here's my midweek challenge response...
Posted by SwingGirl on Thursday, 27 April 2000, at 12:40 p.m.
Here's my wonderful HL ditty that I like to call "The Ballad of the Allergies of Duncan MacLeod". It's set to the tune of the theme song from "Gilligan's Island".
************
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a great Immie,
That started in 1592, not 1593.
The Scot was a mighty kilt wearin' man, a warrior brave and sure,
But he suffered allergies for which there was no cure, for which there was no cure.
The Scotsman started growing up, he traveled round the world,
But his allergies made him ill and so he often hurled, and so he often hurled.
The Immie tried to get away, but suffers from them still,
from dusty air, and ragweed too, a fuzzy dog and a cat, some flower pollen, the fresh mowed grass, and pollen too, are all of his allergies.