53 lines
1.4 KiB
TeX
53 lines
1.4 KiB
TeX
Farewell ye dungeons, dark and strong. \\
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Farewell, farewell to thee. \\
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MacPherson's time will no be long \\
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On yonder gallows tree. \\
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\textit{[Chorus] \\
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So ranting, so wontonly, \\
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So dauntingly gaed he; \\
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He played a tune, and he danced it roun' \\
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About the gallows tree. \\}
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It was by a woman's treacherous hand \\
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That I was condemned to dee. \\
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By a ledge at a window she stood, \\
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And a blanket she threw o'er me. \\
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The Laird o' Grant, that Highland Saint, \\
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That first layed hands on me. \\
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He played the cause on Peter Broon \\
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To let MacPherson dee. \\
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\textit{[Chorus] \\ }
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Untie these bands from off my hands, \\
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And give to me my sword, \\
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An' there's no' a man in all Scotland, \\
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But I'll brave him at a word. \\
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There's some come here to see me hanged \\
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And some to buy my fiddle \\
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But before that I do part wi' her \\
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I'll brake her thro' the middle. \\
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\textit{[Chorus] \\ }
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He took the fiddle into both his hands \\
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And he broke it o'er a stone \\
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Says there's nae other hand shall play on thee \\
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When I am dead and gone. \\
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O, little did my mother think \\
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When she first cradled me \\
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That I would turn a rovin' boy \\
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And die on the gallows tree. \\
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\textit{[Chorus] \\ }
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The reprieve was a comin' o'er the brig o' Banff, \\
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To let MacPherson free; \\
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But the put the clock a quarter afore, \\
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And hanged him to the tree. \\
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\textit{[Chorus] \\ } |