Aye an' a bit of Mackeral settler rack and ruin
ran it doon by the haim, 'ma place
well I slapped me and I slapped it doon in the side
and I cried, cried, cried.

The fear a fallen down taken never back the raize and then Craig
Marion,
get out wi' ye Claymore out mi pocket a' ran doon, doon the
middin stain
picking the fiery horde that was fallen around ma feet.
Never he cried, never shall it ye get me alive
ye rotten hound of the burnie crew. Well I snatched fer the
blade O my
Claymore cut and thrust and I fell doon before him round his
feet.

Aye! A roar he cried frae the bottom of his heart that I would
nay fall
but as dead, dead as 'a can be by his feet; de ya ken?

...and the wind cried back.

[In English] Thank you.

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