Okay, so we are no strangers here to threads where the virtues and foibles of contemporary and traditional kilts and kilt "practices" are debated, sometimes with "angst" and always with passion.

We've also been blessed with the occasional thread where XMarkers try their hand at verse and prose in a creative bent and there's been much talent revealed.

So, I thought we might try to combine these two impulses into a rhyming joust between those of the "Old Way" and those of the "New Way" and those (most of us) somewhere in between who might like to joust in jest and zing a few couplets at one another with little restraint, but with no fear of injury.

I think this is a good idea.

But then again, I could be crazy.

Nevertheless, I've decided to start the ball rolling by firing a salvo for the Traditional Side, with a little dittie called "To a Kilt?", with all due apologies to the immortal RB.

Wee, PV, pocketed, snap-closed beastie,
Thy apron plain an dark and dusky
Set some whose breath is oh so yeasty,
muttering in their beers
I’d be laith to snip and chop thee
With sharply snicking shears

I’m truly sorry some who wear thee
Are oft confused as they compare thee
To hallowed garment all in all we
Call a proper kilt
Skirt or MUG or other names we call thee
As we will’t.

I doubt na whyles you may be useful
To someone young who’s had a snootful
Of who finds zippers brutll’y hurtful
When whizzing in a bar
Who find pants and parts too much a handful
relieving in a jar.

Thou’re handy yes, but are thee kilt-like
And even though you may be built like
A proper kilt, your tartan lack
It doth betray thee
To be a cut-bottomed sack
Nae kilt, so say we

Thou saw the multitude in jeans
With no more sense than cans of beans
and in their sartorial lack a means
Of opening a vein
Their wallets emptied to the seams
To sing the MUG’s refrain

Thy wee bit of cloth and stitching
Has sent many a lad’s old jones to itching
Your makers bank accounts enriching
While sewing up the money
But we’ll nae find your style bewitching
Just looking daft and funny

But MUGgie thou are no thy lane,
In proving true this old refrain
A fool and money will oft be twain
When style comes to the fore
An’ nought for sense will oft remain
When tradition is out the door

Still, thou art blest, compared wi’ me
The present mostly knoweth thee
And backwards I do cast my e’e
At my tartan encased – rear
Or forward bend my wearied knee
To pray for old kilts dear.