Black Morrow, also known as Black Murray and Outlaw Murray, is the name given to a late 15th century Scottish outlaw. A popular ballad makes the bandit as living in Ettrick Forest, while a recorded oral tradition, a wood in Kirkcudbrightshire. In the tradition, the outlaw is described as a Gypsy, Moor or a Saracen. The folklorist David MacRitchie took a strong interest in the ethnicity of the outlaw because of his dark skin, and the story is commonly quoted in modern Afrocentrist literature. Others however (e.g. John Mactaggart) have disputed whether the bandit was dark skinned, or a "Blackimore".
The story as a ballad, appears as "An Old Song Called Outlaw Murray" in the Glenriddel Manuscripts (XI, 61) published in 1791. It also appears in The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, a collection of ballads compiled by Walter Scott (1803). Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland (1859) in a note appended to the ballad mentions an earlier manuscript: "written between the years 1689 and 1702" which contains the song. While the latter manuscript is presumed lost, "it is clear that the ballad was known before 1700; how much earlier it is to be put we can nether ascertain nor safely conjecture". According however to Scott, the ballad or dancing song "appears to have been composed about the reign of James V", while the story itself takes place during the late 15th century. Note that the ballad doesn't describe the bandit as a Gypsy, Saracen or Moor, nor even as Black Murray, only as Outlaw Murray.
Your desperation
Your inspiration
When you finally became a mute,
while a sad song plays,
you lie helpless and lost,
infected by the truth
That was fabricated by you.
Your image shattered in the eye of the storm.
We would never reach out to you.
How could you?
Your desperation to look like a victim
is such a cop-out.
You're fooling yourself.
Your inspiration is your contradictions.
You've lost the concept of what's the real truth.
That it's you who is the thief.
Who should by humbled by the
sheer size of your crimes.
We befriended you.
It was abuse.
There's no better time then the present time
to finally forget you.
How could you?
Your desperation to look like a victim
is such a cop-out.
You're fooling yourself.
Your inspiration is your contradictions.
You've lost the concept
of what's the real truth.
Close your eyes, and pretend that it's alright.
Do you feel it tonight?
Can you feel it tonight?
It's all crashing down.
Lately you know you've seen it.
The face, in the mirror never lies.
You're fading.