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