Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch's destinie! M'Pherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.-Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round, Below the gallows-tree. O, what is death but parting breath? On many a bloody plain I've dared his face, and in this place I scorn him yet again! Sae rantingly, &c. Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring me to my sword; And there's no a man in all Scotland But I'll brave him at a word. Sae rantingly, &c. 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. Sae rantingly, &c. Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name, The wretch that dares not die! Sae rantingly, &c.