[Intro] [Gentle acoustic guitar picking and a slow, breathing squeeze box] [Scottish Male Voice, speaking softly like he's telling a sad story] "Gather 'roon. Lem-mee tell yah the tay-ul of ma trip tay Ah-mare-ih-cah. Pyoor traj-ee-dee, so it was." [Verse 1: The Arrival] [Rhythmic, bouncing acoustic guitar strumming] [Scottish Male Voice, singing with a thick, melodic folk delivery] Well ah crossed the o-shun bloo tay see the fit-baw play Wi' ma best mate Rah-bee, Ah-mare-ih-cay was the way We're sup-por-tin' Man Yoo-nigh-ted, we're fae Ed-in-boro toon But as soon as we a-rhy-ved, ma smile be-gan tay froon Ah walked in-tay a shop, pyoor parched fae the heat Said "Gie's ah bo-ul of wah-ter and sum-thin' wee tay eat!" [Pre-Chorus] [Music stops completely] [Polite American Female Voice] "I'm sorry sir, are you speaking English?" [Scottish Voice, speaking, highly offended] "Aye! Ah'm speak-in' the King's pyoor Eng-lish, dar-lin'!" [Chorus] [Smooth, sweet American folk-pop harmony] [Gentle tambourine tapping] Oh, excuse me sir, but what was that again? Could you slow it down to a speed we comprehend? We don't understand a single word you say! (What was that again? What was that again?!) [Verse 2: The Honeymoon] [A steady bodhrán drum beat drops in, picking up the energy] [Scottish Voice, singing louder and more frustrated] Well the wah-ter cost ah for-choon, aye-teen dah-lerz fer a sip! So we checked in-tay the ho-tel, try-in' no tay flip The man ah-hint the desk said, "Wel-cum tay the state! Are yee on yer hun-ee-moon wi' yer luv-lee lit-ul mate?" Ah slammed ma fist doon hard, said "We're no a mar-reed pair! He's ma mate since pry-mah-ree, we're just hol-ih-day-in' here!" [Pre-Chorus] [Music stops completely] [Polite American Male Voice] "Sir, we welcome all lifestyles, but there's no need for Spanish." [Scottish Voice, yelling] "SPAN-ISH?! AYM FAE SCOT-LUND, YAH GLAY-KIT EE-JIT!" [Chorus] [Smooth, sweet American folk-pop harmony] [Squeeze box swells loudly] Oh, excuse me sir, but what was that again? Could you slow it down to a speed we comprehend? We don't understand a single word you say! (What was that again? What was that again?!) [Bridge] [Tempo speeds up dramatically, like a fast traditional jig] [Fast acoustic guitar strumming and heavy drumming] [Scottish Voice, practically shouting in time with the music] Ah can-nae take much more of this, ma heed is gah-nae spin! Ev-ree time ah o-pen up ma mooth, ah just can-nae win! We came tay watch the World Cup, we're pyoor skint and dry! Just gie's ah bo-ul of wah-ter a-fore ah pyoor die! [Chorus] [Maximum folk energy, loud group clapping] [Group of polite American voices singing] Oh, excuse me sir, but what was that again? Could you slow it down to a speed we comprehend? We don't understand a single word you say! (What was that again? What was that again?!) [Outro] [Tempo completely drops] [Just a single acoustic guitar strum slowly fading out] [Scottish Voice, exhausted and defeated] "Right. Fine. Here's twen-tee dah-lerz fer the wah-ter. Keep the change." [Polite American Female Voice, bright and cheerful] "Oh, I'm sorry sir, the eighteen dollars doesn't include tax and tip. It's twenty-four dollars." [Scottish Voice, groaning softly] "Ah'm gah-nae walk in-tay the sea..." [End]
