Aye an' a bit of mackeral, settler rack and down*
Ran it down by the home, and I flew
Well, it slapped me and I flopped it down in the shade
And I cried, cried, cried
The tear had fallen down he had taken, never back to raise
And then cried Mary, an' took out wi' your Claymore
Right outta a' pocket, i ran down, down by the mountain side
Battlin' the fiery horde that was falling around the feet
"Never!," he cried. "Never shall ye get me alive
Ye rotten hound of the burnie crew!"
Well I snatched fer the blade an' a Claymore cut and thrust
And I fell down before him round his feet
Aye! A roar he cried!
Frae the bottom of 'is heart
That I would nay fall but as dead
Dead as I can by y' feet, d'ya ken?
...And the wind cried back