Page:Six favourite songs (1).pdf/6

 And when at last we needs must die—

The doctors cannot save—

From death—they still most kindly try

To snatch us from the grave.

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,

The wretch’s destiny;

M‘Pherson’s time will not be long,

On yonder gallows tree.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He play’d a spring, and danc’d it round,

Below the gallows tree.

Oh what is death but parting breath?

On many a bloody plain

I’ve dar’d his face, and in this place

I scorn him yet again.

Untie these bands from off my hands,

And bring to me my sword;

And there’s no a man in a’ Scotland,

But I’ll brave him at a word.

I’ve liv’d a life of sturt and strife,

I die by treacherie;

It burns my heart I must depart

And not avenged be.