My S.O. and our good friend Mr. Rae have a conspiracy to punish mountain dulcimers, and at a recent festival had been practicing all morning, mostly on one (for them) rather complex tune.

We were joined that morning by a new "camp friend," who, like Mr. Rae being a long term military medic, and lover of SPAM, MREs, and things military surplus, immediately became a kindred spirit in our camp.
After a time of discussing which items from the current MRE (that's "Meal-Ready-to-Eat, for non mil types) made the best trading goods, which candy bar was best for sharpening your bayonet, and such, our guest asked "But do y' know any Scottish tunes."

Our new friend, Mr Campbell, turned an ashen white the likes of which is seldom seen on the first three notes of - - "The Rape of Glencoe" - - when Mr. Rae struck up the tune.

Good Spirits prevailed, and friendly rapport returned after a while, but for a time it seemed like a near death experience.

John