Somewhere on Erebus, at some point it it's history, an Amurite mage started a brawl in a bar with a Luchiurp by saying about the same thing.
Way I see it, the difference between making a golem and raising a skeleton is that the former has to be mechanically sound, or it'll fall apart. Take someone's bones to the local enchanter. Enough gold, and he won't ask questions. If he was drunk enough to enchant it without doing anything else first, it would fall to pieces, lacking muscle to hold it together. He'd have to do some work to make it stay together, perhaps nailing, lashing, and hinging bones together. The result would still be a very frail and inefficient golem. One smack from a good axe, and the bones splinter and crack. (The Bone Golem, before you mention that, isn't actually a skeleton, but rather a golem carved out of huge pieces of ivory. The skeletal shape is merely proof that Luchiurp golems have a dark sense of humor; they might as well have made them look like gargoyles, or giant llamas, and they would have worked as well.)
Now let's say you hire your friendly neighborhood necromancer to raise a skeleton, the old-school way. He might lash the bones together as his dwarveern counterpart would, as doing so provides some extra support, but it's not strictly necessary. Then he'll call up some spirits. Weak ones. Perhaps old ghosts who have forgotten that they even exist, maybe the fragments from some disintegrated specter, possibly the leftovers from a Sidar's waning... basically, he'll grab a handful of the white noise of the spirit world. Any adept can do it. Then he'll stick what he's got into the skull. The spirits, combined with the tiny fragment of life that got leftover when the skeleton's previous inhabitant left for the next world, will "remember" how to move. It'll be a bit frail, of course. But whereas the theoretical skeleton golem would last about as long as a skeleton lashed together would, the old-school skeleton will prove unusually hard to kill. Smash the bones and, often, the damned thing will still stay together. The fact that it should not, physically, even be able to stand or move comes in handy; until you smash the bones until they're unrecognizable, or hit it with something holy to sever the spirits from the bones, it'll re-assemble itself out of sheer, dumb stubbornness. Obviously, it's not the most dangerous opponent; slow, clumsy, and vulnerable while re-assembling itself. But it's greater than the sum of it's parts, so to speak.
(I'm thinking I may iterate on this further, at a later date, in an in-world format... no gurantees, though, but I have a rather amusing image in my head now.)
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