Aye an' a bit of mackerel, 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, and 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 and a Claymore cut and thrust
And I fell down before him round his feet

Aye, a roar he cried fray the bottom of 'is heart
That I would nay fall but as dead
Dead as I can by why' feet, d'ya ken?
And the wind cried back