Burn The Witch

There lived a wife in Pittenweem and a gruesome cummer was she,
Nae glimpse o' grace was in her heart, nor spark o' humanity,
Her een they gogled like a fiend, her chin was clad wi hair,
And her crooked teeth pushed out beneath like tusks on a Lapland Bear..

||: 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. :||


And the screeching of the demons dark seemed music till her ear
And aye she called the Evil One her lord and her master dear,
He's gi'en her a staff intae her hand, cut frae the gallows tree,
Wi a varnish red frae the hangman's head, and a skull for the eyes tae see.

||: 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. :||


Now she's killed the heifer on the green, the lambs upon the lea,
And monie a bonny bairnie cried, that could never live or dee.
The sherrif has sent his scouts abroad, and they sought both east and west,
Till they cam tae the cave as dark as the grave, where they found her sleeping fast...

||: 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. :||


Well they built a fire 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 ga'ed an awfu' yell,
And her spirit o sin it fell within, but where I cannot tell.

||: 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. :||


Words and Music: Ian McCalman