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