Tekst piosenek

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 a b c d e f g h i j k l n o p r s t u w y z

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