| Lyrics |
Alasdair, son of exile Cholla
In your hand I would entrust deeds.
Chant...
The lord of Ach-nam-breac would be killedby you
Chant...
He would be buried at the edge of the loch
Chant...
And although I would get a blow, I heardyesterday a sad story
Chant...
That Glasgow was going down.
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