XMTS Poet Laureate Rhyming Challenge

[Barry]

Forsooth ye bawcocks all, I must retire
With scotch in hand, fast kilted by the fire
My quill is limp; it’s passion duly spent
It will not write of Bristol or in Kent
Perchance, in time I will return to ye
With stiff straight pleats for all to see.

I trust this doughty thread will not soon die
But for the nonce Barry must say Goodbye!

[kiltedsawyer]

If retire ye must, we say goodnight,
Farewell good friend, sweet dreams, sleep tight,
And slumber well, in peace, but first,
May we also, quench our thirst?
And so for that we humbly ask,
Please kind sir, pass the flask.

[kiltedsawyer]

So pass the flask, may we all drink,
To caring not what others think.
But should they wonder, should they dare,
Should they check Grant for underwear.
It is but we that truly know,
What is worn, the kilt below.

It is not worn but working well,
Yet modesty forbids we tell.
Now some may not yet some may question,
Some may blush at the mere suggestion.
For by design, not accidental,
Is worn the kilt, regimental.