In fine apparel clothed, tae another bairn betrothed
Told one day you'd be the queen o' France
Ambition rode your fears, made you old before your years
Whispered power in your ear as you danced
But a politician's wiles need a schemer, no' a child
And you never saw the price you'd have to pay
For like a hired a**a**in's knife, Scotland's violence and strife
Would cut scruple frae your life, day by day
What were you first, quine or queen?
Or did your heart drown in between
The tyrant ship o' state and the cruel shore o' fate?
What were you first, queen or quine?
Wha gave you first yon bitter wine
That held your heat at ransom tae the cruel, proud and handsome
And left hope a lonely prisoner in a far north land
To some you were a knave, better left a galley slave
To some you were the saviour o' a nation
But you were never asked to tell what caught you when you fell
Between your ain private hell and salvation
And I'd respect your memory more if you had paused upon yon shore
Before you made your journey tae Geneva
For one clear line across the sand might have stayed fanatic hands
Left you better baith as man and believer
What were you first, man or priest?
Or the tool o' Revelation's beast
Primes wi' fire and thunder tae tear Scotland's soul asunder?
What were you first, priest or man?
Sae sure you'd sit on God's right hand
On the final judgement day. Did you never think tae pray
That your ain sins might find mercy in a far north land
God save us frae the lure o' the certain and the sure
For arrogance is cold religion's daughter
And God save us frae the sin that throws conscience tae the wind
Sheds blood for kith and kin like it was water
What brought you baith tae truth or dare?
What devil's bargain did you swear
That gave you leave tae barter wi' heroes, fools and martyrs?
What were you baith in Scotland's eyes
But different tongues for different lies?
Lord and Lady of Misrule
Who used a nation for their tool
Who both betrayed the future of a far north land