My old girl she's hard to please.
All through her I'm wearing these.
She took away my trousers, and kids me that I'm Scotch.
Ev'ry time as I walk out, it fair gives me the spur,
And when the wind begins to blow, I always say to her:

Chorus: 'It's cold without your trousers.
I feel cold without my trousers.
I'm so flushed I'm like the Scotch
They sell in public houses.
I never wore a kilt before.
Up above it's warm, I'm sure.
Down in the bottom, oh dear, oh lor!
It's cold without your trousers.

One night I got fairly tight,
Sat out on the kerb all night.
A p'liceman quickly run me in to some fishmonger's shop.
Said he, 'Your penny ??? will bring you round, I think.
He set me on a block of ice, I shouted quite distinct...


Last Christmas time a pal of mine
Said, 'I've been t' Switzerland, many times
Come with me, old fellow, and let us climb the Alps.'
I said, 'Once to the mountain top you want to make me climb.
It might be nice in summer, oh, but in the wintertime...


Last night I had such a fright,
Found the house was all alight,
Heard the engines pumping as I stood on the roof.
With all the girls down below fairly made me blush.
I shouted when the firemen squirted on my whitewash brush...


Performed by Harry Champion (1865-1942)
From Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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