Chorus:
Sae wanton-ly, sae daunton-ly
Sae ranton-ly gaed he
He played a tune an' he danced aroon
Below the gallus tree.
Farewell, farewell, Macpherson you
The day is coming you mun dee
And curs-ed be you English laws
That first condemneth thee.
It was by a lady's treacherous hand
That I'm condemned to dee
It was in below her window-sill
They threw a blanket over me.
The laird o' Grant, that highlan' Sa'nt
That first laid hands on me
He pleyed the cause o' Peter Broon
But he let Macpherson dee.
Untie those bands from off my hands
And bring tae me a sword
There's not a man in a' Scotland
But I'll brave him at his word.
There's some come here tae see me hang
And some tae buy my fiddle
But before that I do pairt wi' her
I'll brak' her through the middle.
He took the fiddle into baith his hands
And he brak' it o'er a stane
There nae body will play on her
While I lay dead and gone.
Fare thee well, my ain dear highlan' hame
Fare thee well, my wife an' my bairns
There's nae fa'nting at the hairt
While the fiddle was in my airms.
The reprieve was coming o'er the brig o' Banff
When they stood on the Galla' Hill to see
They put the clock three-quarters fast
And hanged him tae the tree.
Midi-Arrangement von Barry Taylor