
Farewell ye dungeons, dark and strong. \\
Farewell, farewell to thee. \\
MacPherson's time will no be long \\
On yonder gallows tree. \\

\textit{[Chorus] \\
So ranting, so wontonly, \\
So dauntingly gaed he; \\
He played a tune, and he danced it roun' \\
About the gallows tree. \\}

It was by a woman's treacherous hand \\
That I was condemned to dee. \\
By a ledge at a window she stood, \\
And a blanket she threw o'er me. \\

The Laird o' Grant, that Highland Saint, \\
That first layed hands on me. \\
He played the cause on Peter Broon \\
To let MacPherson dee. \\

\textit{[Chorus] \\ }

Untie these bands from off my hands, \\
And give to me my sword, \\
An' there's no' a man in all Scotland, \\
But I'll brave him at a word. \\

There's some come here to see me hanged \\
And some to buy my fiddle \\
But before that I do part wi' her \\
I'll brake her thro' the middle. \\

\textit{[Chorus] \\ }

He took the fiddle into both his hands \\
And he broke it o'er a stone \\
Says there's nae other hand shall play on thee \\
When I am dead and gone. \\

O, little did my mother think \\
When she first cradled me \\
That I would turn a rovin' boy \\
And die on the gallows tree. \\

\textit{[Chorus] \\ }

The reprieve was a comin' o'er the brig o' Banff, \\
To let MacPherson free; \\
But the put the clock a quarter afore, \\
And hanged him to the tree. \\

\textit{[Chorus] \\ }
