| 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 alone, yeah | |
| And he's not alone | |
| And he's not alone | |
| And he's not alone, yeah | |
| Let my people go |