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.