Laird
FELIX PAPPALARDI, GAIL 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