{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/boeb/boeb28.htm","path":"neu/eng/boeb/boeb28.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/boeb/boeb28.htm","text":"THE king sits in Dunfermline town,\n \u00a0\u00a0Drinking the blude-red wine;\n \"O whare will I get a skeely skipper,\n \u00a0\u00a0To sail this new ship of mine?\"\nO up and spak' an eldern knight,\n \u00a0\u00a0Sat at the king's right knee,\n \"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sail\u00f2r,\n \u00a0\u00a0That ever sailed the sea.\"\nOur king has written a braid letter,\n \u00a0\u00a0And seated it with his hand,\n And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,\n \u00a0\u00a0Was walking on the strand.\n\"To Noroway, to Noroway,\n \u00a0\u00a0To Noroway o'er the faem;\n The king's daughter of Noroway\n \u00a0\u00a0'Tis thou maun bring her hame.\"\nThe first word that Sir Patrick read,\n \u00a0\u00a0Sae loud\u00a0loud laugh\u00e8d he;\n The neist word that Sir Patrick read,\n \u00a0\u00a0The tear blinded his ee.\n\"O wha is this has done this deed,\n \u00a0\u00a0And tauld the king o' me,\n To send us out at this time of the year,\n \u00a0\u00a0To sail upon the sea?\n\"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,\n \u00a0\u00a0Our ship must sail the faem;\n The king's daughter of Noroway,\n \u00a0\u00a0'Tis we must fetch her hame.\"\nThey hoysed their sails an Moneday morn,\n \u00a0\u00a0Wi' a' the speed they may;\n They hae landed in Noroway,\n \u00a0\u00a0Upon a Wedn\u00e8sday.\nThey hadna been a week, a week,\n \u00a0\u00a0In Noroway, but twae,\n When that the lords o' Noroway\n \u00a0\u00a0Began aloud to say:\n\"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,\n \u00a0\u00a0And a' our queen's fee.\"\n \"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!\n \u00a0\u00a0Fu' loud I hear ye lie;\n\"For I brought as much white monie,\n \u00a0\u00a0As gane my men and me,\n And I brought a half-fou of gude red goud,\n \u00a0\u00a0Out o'er the sea wi' me.\n\"Make ready, make ready, my merry men a',\n \u00a0\u00a0Our gude ship sails the morn.\"\n \"Now, ever alake, my master dear,\n \u00a0\u00a0I fear a deadly storm!\n\"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,\n \u00a0\u00a0Wi' the old moon in her arm;\n And, if we gang to sea, mast\u00e8r,\n \u00a0\u00a0I fear we'll come to harm.\"\nThey hadna sailed a league, a league,\n \u00a0\u00a0A league but barely three,\n When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud\n \u00a0\u00a0And gurly grew the sea.\nThe ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,\n \u00a0\u00a0It was sic a deadly storm;\n And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,\n \u00a0\u00a0Till a' her sides were torn.\n\"O where will I get a gude sail\u00f2r,\n \u00a0\u00a0To take my helm in hand,\n Till I get up to the tall top-mast,\n \u00a0\u00a0To see if I can spy land?\"\n\"O here am I, a sailor gude,\n \u00a0\u00a0To take the helm in hand,\n Till you go up to the tall top-mast;\n \u00a0\u00a0But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.\"\nHe hadna gane a step, a step,\n \u00a0\u00a0A step but barely ane,\n When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,\n \u00a0\u00a0And the salt sea it cam in.\n\"Gae, fetch a web of the silken claith,\n \u00a0\u00a0Another o' the twine,\n And wap them into our ship's side,\n \u00a0\u00a0And let nae the sea come in.\"\nThey fetched a web o' the silken claith,\n \u00a0\u00a0Another o' the twine,\n And they wapped them round that gude ship's side,\n \u00a0\u00a0But still the sea cam in.\nO laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords\n \u00a0\u00a0To weet their cork-heeled shoon!\n But lang or a' the play was played,\n \u00a0\u00a0They wat their hats aboon.\nAnd mony was the feather bed,\n \u00a0\u00a0That flattered on the faem;\n And mony was the gude lord's son,\n \u00a0\u00a0That never mair cam hame.\nThe ladies wrang their fingers white,\n \u00a0\u00a0The maidens tore their hair,\n A' for the sake of their true loves\n \u00a0\u00a0For them they'll see nae mair.\nO lang, lang, may the ladies sit,\n \u00a0\u00a0Wi' their fans into their hand,\n Before they see Sir Patrick Spens\n \u00a0\u00a0Come sailing to the strand!\nAnd lang, lang, may the maidens sit,\n \u00a0\u00a0With their goud kaims in their hair\n A' waiting for their ain dear loves,\n \u00a0\u00a0For them they'll see nae mair!\nO forty miles off Aberdeen,\n \u00a0\u00a0'Tis fifty fathoms deep,\n And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens\n \u00a0\u00a0Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.","title":"A Book of Old English Ballads: Sir Patrick Spens","type":"page"}