Aye an a bit o´ mackerel, fiddler, rack and fear
And I rutted down by the hade and the furrow
Well, I slipped me in a flop and hit down and I shied
And I cried, cried, cried

The fear of fallin´ down aft´ taken, never back to rise
And then cried ´Mary!´ and I tucked up
Wi´ a Claymore out and about
And I run down, down the mechyn sty
And beckoned the fiery whore
That was fallin´ around the feet
"Never", I cried. "Never shall ye get me alive
Ya rotten hound of the Burnie Brae"
Well, I snapped for a blade and a Claymore cut and thrust
And I fell down before him ´round his feet
(That was pretty avant-garde, wasn´t it?)
Aye, a roar he cried! Frae the bottom of his heart
That I would nay fall but dead, dead as a can by a feat deah...
And the wind cried back

Thank you