Macphearson's Lament

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