MAC PHERSON'S RANT

I'VE spent my time in rioting,
Debauch'd my health and strength,
I've pillag'd, plunder'd, murdered,
But now, alas! at length
I'm brought to punishment direct,
Pale death draws near to me;
This end I never did project,
To hang upon a tree.

To hang upon a tree! a tree!
That cursed, unhappy death!
Like to a wolf to worried be
And choaked in the breath.
My very heart would surely break,
When this I think upon,
Did not my courage singular
Bid pensive thoughts begone?

No man on earth that draweth breath
More courage had than I;
I dar'd my foes unto their face,
And would not from them fly;
This grandeur stout, I did keep out,
Like Hector manfullie,
Then wonder one like me so stout
Should hang upon a tree.

Th' Egyptian band I did command
With courage more by far
Than ever did a general
His soldiers in the war.
Being fear'd by all, both great and small,
I liv'd most joyfullie;
O, curse upon this fate of mine,
To hang upon a tree!

As for my life, I do not care,
If justice would take place,
And bring my fellow plunderers
Unto this same disgrace.
For Peter Brown, that notour loon,
Escaped and was made free;
O, curse upon this fate of mine
To hang upon a tree!

Both law and justice buried are,
And fraud and guile succeed,
The guilty pass unpunished,
If money intercede.
The Laird of Grant, that Highland saunt,
His mighty majesty,
He pleads the cause of Peter Brown
And lets Macpherson dee.

The dest'ny of my life contriv'd
By those whom I oblig'd,
Rewarded me much ill for good
And left me no refuge.
For Braco Duff, in rage enough,
He first laid hands on me;
And, if that death would not prevent,
Avenged wou'd I be.

As for my life it is but short,
When I shall be no more;
To part with life I am content,
As any heretofore.
Therefore, good people all, take heed,
This warning take by me,
According to the lives you lead
Rewarded you shall be.

Notes:
A great many improbable things, and much sentimental rubbish, has been written from time to time regarding the life, trial and execution of James Macpherson, consequently, the following facts collected from many different sources, may be of interest to my readers:—
He was born of a beautiful gipsy woman who, at a great wedding, attracted the notice of a half intoxicated Highland gentleman. He acknowledged the child and had him reared at his house until he lost his life pursuing a hostile clan to recover a ver a spreach of cattle taken from Badenoch. The gipsy woman, hearing of this disaster in her rambles the following summer, came and took her boy; but she often returned with him, to wait upon his relations and clansmen, who never failed to clothe him well, besides giving money to his mother. He grew up to beauty, strength, and stature rarely equalled. We are informed that his sword, which was up to recent times preserved in Duff House. Banff, was so heavy that few men could carry it, far less wield it, as a weapon of war.

Source: Ord's Bothy Songs and Ballads, pp. 444-445.

The Traditional Ballad Index says this song uses the same melody as "MacPherson's Lament."