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.
