McPherson's Farewell

Fareweel, ye dungeons dark and strong, fareweel, Fareweel tae thee.

McPherson’s time will nae be lang, on yonder gallows tree.

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Sae rantin'ly, sae wantonly, sae dauntin'ly gaed he

He played a tune and danced it roon', below the gallows tree.

'Twas by a woman's treacherous hand, that I was condemned to dee.

Below a ledge at a window she stood, and a blanket she threw o'er me.

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The Laird o' Grant, that hieland sant, that first laid hands on me,

He played the cause on Peter Broon, tae let MacPherson free.

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Untie these bands frae off my hands, and gie to me my sword.

There's no' a man in all Scotland, but I'll brave him at a word.

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There's some come here tae see me hanged, and some to buy my fiddle.

But before I do part wi' her, I'll brak her thro' the middle.

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He took the fiddle in both of his hands, and he broke it o'er a stone.

Says,"There's nae ither hand shall play on thee, when I am dead and gone."

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O little did my mother think, when first she cradled me,

That I would turn a rovin' boy, and die on the gallows tree.

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The reprieve was comin' o'er the brig o' Banf, tae let McPherson free,

But they pit the clock a quarter before, and hanged him tae the tree.

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