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                 Several Species
                of Small Furry Animals Gathered  
                Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict (Waters) 
                Nach dem
                englischsprachighen FAQ gibt es zwei Versuche, die Worte zu deuten. 
                I Brian Tompsett 
                 
                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. 
                
                    II Mike Merriam 
                     
                    Aye an' a bit of Mackeral (Fagger, wreck'n) fear 
                    Ran it doon by the (haim) 
                    And I (flew). 
                    When I (slapped) me, 
                    And I flopped it doon in the shade, 
                    And I cried, cried, 'n cried. 
                     
                    The fear o' fallen down 'a taken, ne'er back t' raise. 
                     
                    And then cried Mary, 
                    And I took that weighted claymore right out of (---), 
                    And ran doon, doon the mountain side, 
                    And back unt' the fiery horde that was fall'n round y' feet. 
                     
                    Never, I cried, 
                    Never shall ye take me alive, 
                    Y' rotten hound and the (----- --rew). 
                     
                    Well I (snapped fore) the blade o' my claymore, 
                    Cut and thrust, 
                    And I fell down before him. 
                    Right at his feet. Aye! 
                     
                    A roar, he cried, 
                    Fr' the bottom of his heart, 
                    That I would nay fall 
                     
                    But as dead, 
                    Dead as I can, by feat 
                    (D' ya ken?) 
                     
                    And the wind cried Mary. 
                 
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