The Incipient Shire of Cuil Choluim

Chorus
So rantingly, so wontonly
So dauntingly went he
He played a tune an' he danced around
Beneath the gallows tree.

It was by a woman's treacherous hand
That I was condemned to die
Beneath a ledge at a window she stood
And a blanket she threw o'er me.

Well the laird o' Grant, that highland saint
That first laid hands on me
He played the cause on Peter Broon
To let Macpherson die.

Untie these bands from off my hands
And give to me my sword
There's nae a man in a' Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.

There's some come here to see me hanged
And some to buy my fiddle
But before that I do part wi' her
I'll brake her thro' the middle.

He took the fiddle into both his hands
And he broke it o'er a stone
Says there's nae other hand shall play on thee
When I am dead and gone.

O, little did my mother think
When she first cradled me
That I would turn a rovin' boy
And die on the gallows tree.