We were only walking down the street one day, the street being in County Bucks near the high city of Philadelic, by the town of Chi Staic, and one of us, aye can't remember who, pulls out a bag o' pipes and starts playing. Wow, say the others, we didn't know you could wail on them things, let alone carry em around without us noticing them, to which the person whom aye can't remember of us says yeah, neither did aye. But aye can. And lo, the angel of the gourd come down, and called him a craic addict.So we were all soon filled with wonder and begat to wonder if this wasn't one o' them Signs o' God that you read about. Well aye do, anyway. So aye pipes up and aye says, Hey. I'm gonna try it. So then aye does and Lo and Behave, out from nowhere practically pops an aged set of them Pipes and aye plays and it sound dreadful-like and the other of us (who aye remember now was the one they call "Swami") says Well look now there then, let me teach you before you kill someone.So well he does, and before we realize it, we turn around and the other ones of us are picking up stuff off the side of the road and making music on it. Some of it being filthy and all and so we called it traditional original celtic rock. And so Mary Mack (being grape with child) did that day bear a new trad rock sensation in the form of a lowly whisky and did call it the Barely-juiced. And it was good shit.and then there ye go.
