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Burn The Witch

  • (Ian McCalman)

    Chorus:
    Burn the witch o' Pittenweem
    Burn the witch and her awful spell
    Burn the devil in the witch's heart
    Let her hurry on her way to hell

    There lived a wife in Pittenweem
    And a gruesome cummer wis she
    Nae glimpse o' grace wis in her heart
    No spark o' humanity
    Her een they goggled like a fiend
    Her chin wis clad wi' hair
    And her crooked teeth pushed out beneath
    Like tusks on a Lapland bear

    And the screechin' o' the demons dark
    Seemed music till her ears
    And aye she called the Evil one
    Her lord and her master dear
    He's gien her a staff intae her hand
    Cut frae the gallows tree
    Wi' a varnish red frae the hangman's dead
    And a skull for the eyes tae see

    She's killed the heifer on the green
    The lamb upon the lea
    And mony a bonnie bairnie cried
    That could never live or dee
    The sheriff has sent his scouts abroad
    And they sought baith east and west
    Till they come to the cave as dark as the grave
    Where they found her sleeping fast

    They built a pyre around the hag
    Twa Scots ells up and higher
    And the hangman cam wi' a lourin torch
    Tae light the horrid pyre
    And when the flames had reached her heart
    She gae'd an awful yell
    And her spirit o' sin it fell within
    And where I canna tell

    (as sung by The McCalmans)

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

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Quelle: Scotland

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aktualisiert am 02.04.2010, 12.09.2002