They were drunk again. This itself wasn't a great surprise, all of the nations of the British Isles had a penchant for drinking. What was surprising, however, was what they were doing. Somehow they had all reached just the right amount of alcohol consumption to make them agreeable, and they had begun to sing. England had procured a guitar and was sitting, head bowed, on the back of a chair, with his feet on the seat. On one side of him, sitting in the chair properly, was Wales with a fiddle. North Ireland and Ireland sat next to each other on the other side of England, North with a bodhrán and Ireland with a mandolin. Scotland sat on the far side of Wales, with no instrument but his voice.
At first glance you wouldn't assume Scotland had a singing voice, he was large and brawny. You would assume Ireland or Wales had the better singing voice, and while it was true that they did sing well, Scotland was not incompetent. No, the only brother who truly could not sing well was England. However, he made up for this in his guitar playing. England had the remarkable ability of being able to play the guitar in almost any style, to any song, and playing songs perfectly, even if he'd only heard them once.
England and North started the driving beat, and Ireland joined in immediately with hints of the melody on his mandolin. The bar seemed to fall silent as the other patrons turned to listen. England and Ireland traded the melody briefly. And Scotland began to sing.
As he sang, Ireland followed his melody while England played chords below them. At the second verse, Wales began to play along to the same melody. They all had faces of peaceful concentration as they played, listening to the others and adding their own soul to the music. Suddenly Scotland dropped out, and let the rest play a spell on their own. As they finished the melody Scotland jumped back in, shifting the melody slightly, shifting the lyrics. Wales, almost subconsciously, drew long notes over Ireland's picking and Scotland's singing to try and show the feeling of the water they were singing about. The music had consumed them, the music was them and they were the music.
Then again, Scotland dropped out and let his brothers carry the melody. With gusto, they took it and shifted it back to the first idea. Laughing, Scotland jumped back in with his first ditty. After another few rounds, he fell out again, and Wales and Ireland finished the song, Scotland singing his last line again at the very end.
Slowly they let the notes die away. The rest of the bar had applauded them, and they were roused from their trance when four pints of beer were placed on the table before them.
"On the house." smiled the bartender.
They all took deep drafts of the amber liquid. Soon thereafter, a barfight started.