| A mile frae Pentcaitland, on the road to the sea
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| Stands a yew tree a thousand years old
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| And the old women swear by the grey o' their hair
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| That it knows what the future will hold
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| For the shadows of Scotland stand round it
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| 'Mid the kail and the corn and the kye
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| All the hopes and the fears of a thousand long years
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| Under the Lothian sky
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| Did you look through the haze o' the lang summer days
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| Tae the South and the far English border
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| A' the bonnets o' steel on Flodden’s far field
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| Did they march by your side in good order
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| Did you ask them the price o' their glory
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| When you heard the great slaughter begin
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| For the dust o' their bones would rise up from the stones
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| To bring tears to the eyes o' the wind
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| Not once did you speak for the poor and the weak
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| When the moss-troopers lay in your shade
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| To count out the plunder and hide frae the thunder
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| And share out the spoils o' their raid
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| But you saw the smiles o' the gentry
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| And the laughter of lords at their gains
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| When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor
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| The rich man can keep them in chains
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| Did you no' think tae tell when John Knox himsel'
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| Preached under your branches sae black
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| To the poor common folk who would lift up the yoke
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| O' the bishops and priests frae their backs
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| But you knew the bargain he sold them
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| And freedom was only one part
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| For the price o' their souls was a gospel sae cold
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| It would freeze up the joy in their hearts
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| And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your wood
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| That it might be a kindness to fell you
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| One kiss o' the axe and you’re freed frae the racks
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| O' the sad bloody tales that men tell you
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| But a wee bird flew out from your branches
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| And sang out as never before
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| And the words o' the song were a thousand years long
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| And to learn them’s a long thousand more
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| Last chorus:
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| My bonnie yew tree |