Words by Dave Boulton, music by Jeff Parton
Don’t sell the Cuillins McLeod
They’re your history ancient and proud
Sell all that you hold
Sell your heart/arse sell your soul
But don’t sell the Cuillins McLeod
John McLeod will you listen to reason
McLeod will you listen to me
A man from just South of nowhere very special
Who can’t believe what he just heard on T.V.
Is it true that you’re selling the Cuillins?
The thought turns my stomach to lead
For a man must be blind or be out of his mind
To be doing the things that they said
John McLeod would you part with the Cuillins
After they were hard fought and hard won?
Do you think that your kinsmen and clansmen of old
Would ever forgive or forget what you’d done?
For they weren’t handed down for your pleasure
Or to squander on whiskey and wine
Not to keep yourself fed or a roof o’er your head
But in trust with your clan for all time
John McLeod can’t you see what you’re doing?
Can’t you see that it’s you that they’ll blame
And your name will be dragged down the eras and ages
A watchword for treacherous traitorous shame
So John don’t you sell the Black Mountains
There’s still time to consider your plan
You’ll not get any thanks selling out to the Yanks
So be true to your own or be damned
2000 His Worship & the Pig