Pappalardi-Collins)



The Laird is arriving

He ran to the east

He stood in the courthouse

Pleading his case

His crime was a passion

An aching for peace



And he´s not alone

And he´s not alone

And he´s not alone

And he´s not alone



Let my people go

His soul is on paper

Freshly changed

And white men they keep him

Oh and not changing



And he´s not around, yeah

And he´s not around

He´s not around

He´s not around, yeah

Let my people go