Farewell, ye dungeons dark and drear,
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Farewell, farewell to ye,
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MacPherson's live will no be long
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Round yonder gallows-tree.
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Say rantingly and say wantonly,
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Say dauntingly gaed he;
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He play'd a tune, and danc'd it round
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Below yon gallows-tree.
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Take off these bands from on my hands
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And give to me my sword
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For there's no a man in all Scotland
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But I'll brave him at his word
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Now there's some come here for to see me hung
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and some to buy my fiddle
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but before that I will part with her
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I'll break her through the middle.
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And he took his fiddle in both his hands
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And he broke it o'er a stone,
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Saying there's no other hand shall play on thee
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When I am dead and gone.
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The reprieve was coming o the Brig o' Dans
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To set MacPherson free,
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But they put the clock a quarter before
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And they hanged him from a tree.
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-----------------
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MacPhearson's Lament
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| The Town Pants |
