Am                               G Am
  I did not come for naught I came to warn
       C               Am                  E7              Am
  MacDougall's men are coming lads they'll be here in the morn
  I travelled hard upon the road, through the rainy night 
  Call the men to arms my lads, there'll be a heavy fight
  
  It seems the lass you've taken in is promised to anither
  She's na wha she appears to be, she lied about her mither
  She said she was a tinker's lass, who lost her way saw blind
  And so she came unto your door, she knew you'd treat her kind
  
  I fear she has deceived your will, and know you would believe her
  The clothes upon her face and hands, you'll know she isn't a tinker
  For though her cloak is ragged new her skin is soft and pretty
  She's traded her fine linen in for garments torn and dirty
  
  I see she has won your head, and you'll give her freely
  But for the kindly deed you've done I fear you'll pay most dearly
  MacDougall's men for vengence come, their minds are bent on slaughter
  For heer me weel she's not a lass, she is MacDougall's daughter
   
  
  [From Rebecca Pigeon's 'Four Mary's' (1996)]