{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch058.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch058.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch058.htm","text":"a. Percy\u2019s Reliques, 1765, I, 71: \"given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.\" b. Herd\u2019s Scots Songs, 1769, p. 243.\n58A.1 THE king sits in Dumferling toune,\nDrinking the blude-reid wine:\n\u2018O whar will I get guid sailor,\nTo sail this schip of mine?\u2019\n58A.2 Up and spak an eldern knicht,\nSat at the kings richt kne:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor\nThat sails upon the se.\u2019\n58A.3 The king has written a braid letter,\nAnd signd it wi his hand,\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,\nWas walking on the sand.\n58A.4 The first line that Sir Patrick red,\nA loud lauch lauched he;\nThe next line that Sir Patrick red,\nThe teir blinded his ee.\n58A.5 \u2018O wha is this has don this deid,\nThis ill deid don to me,\nTo send me out this time o\u2019 the yeir,\nTo sail upon the se!\n58A.6 \u2018Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,\nOur guid schip sails the morne:\u2019\n\u2018O say na sae, my master deir,\nFor I feir a deadlie storme.\n58A.7 \u2018Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,\nWi the auld moone in hir arme,\nAnd I feir, I feir, my deir master,\nThat we will cum to harme.\u2019\n58A.8 O our Scots nables wer richt laith\nTo weet their cork-heild schoone;\nBot lang owre a\u2019 the play wer playd,\nTheir hats they swam aboone.\n58A.9 O lang, lang may their ladies sit,\nWi thair fans into their hand,\nOr eir they se Sir Patrick Spence\nCum sailing to the land.\n58A.10 O lang, lang may the ladies stand,\nWi thair gold kems in their hair,\nWaiting for thair ain deir lords,\nFor they\u2019ll se thame na mair.\n58A.11 Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,\nIt\u2019s fiftie fadom deip,\nAnd thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,\nWi the Scots lords at his feit.\nChild 58 B: Sir Patrick Spens\nHerd\u2019s MSS., II, 27, I, 49.\n58B.1 THE king he sits in Dumferling,\nDrinking the blude reid wine: O\n\u2018O where will I get a gude sailor,\nThat\u2019l sail the ships o mine?\u2019 O\n58B.2 Up then started a yallow-haird man,\nJust be the kings right knee:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor\nThat ever saild the see.\u2019\n58B.3 Then the king he wrote a lang letter,\nAnd sealld it with his hand,\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,\nThat was lyand at Leith Sands.\n58B.4 When Patrick lookd the letter on,\nHe gae loud laughters three;\nBut afore he wan to the end of it\nThe teir blindit his ee.\n58B.5 \u2018O wha is this has tald the king,\nHas tald the king o me?\nGif I but wist the man it war,\nHanged should he be.\n58B.6 \u2018Come eat and drink, my merry men all,\nFor our ships maun sail the morn;\nBla\u2019d wind, bla\u2019d weet, bla\u2019d sna or sleet,\nOur ships maun sail the morn.\u2019\n58B.7 \u2018Alake and alas now, good master,\nFor I fear a deidly storm;\nFor I saw the new moon late yestreen,\nAnd the auld moon in her arms.\u2019\n58B.8 They had not saild upon the sea\nA league but merely three,\nWhen ugly, ugly were the jaws\nThat rowd unto their knee.\n58B.9 They had not saild upon the sea\nA league but merely nine,\nWhen wind and weit and snaw and sleit\nCame blawing them behind.\n58B.10 \u2018Then where will I get a pretty boy\nWill take my steer in hand,\nTill I go up to my tap-mast,\nAnd see gif I see dry land?\u2019\n58B.11 \u2018Here am I, a pretty boy\nThat\u2019l take your steir in hand,\nTill you go up to your tap-mast,\nAnd see an you see the land.\u2019\n58B.12 Laith, laith were our Scottich lords\nTo weit their coal-black shoon;\nBut yet ere a\u2019 the play was playd,\nThey wat their hats aboon.\n58B.13 Laith, laith war our Scottish lords\nTo weit their coal-black hair;\nBut yet ere a\u2019 the play was playd,\nThey wat it every hair.\n58B.14 The water at St Johnston\u2019s wall\nWas fifty fathom deep,\nAnd there ly a\u2019 our Scottish lords,\nSir Patrick at their feet.\n58B.15 Lang, lang may our ladies wait\nWi the tear blinding their ee,\nAfore they see Sir Patrick\u2019s ships\nCome sailing oer the sea.\n58B.16 Lang, lang may our ladies wait,\nWi their babies in their hands,\nAfore they see Sir Patrick Spence\nCome sailing to Leith Sands.\nChild 58C: Sir Patrick Spens\nMotherwell\u2019s MS., p. 493, \"from the recitation of Buchanan, alias Mrs Notman, 9 September, 1826.\"\n58C.1 THE king sat in Dunfermline toun,\nDrinking the blude red wine:\n\u2018Where will I get a bold sailor,\nTo sail this ship o mine?\u2019\n58C.2 Out then spak an auld auld knicht,\nWas nigh the king akin:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor\nThat ever sailed the main.\u2019\n58C.3 The king\u2019s wrote a large letter,\nSealed it with his own hand,\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,\nWas walking on dry land.\n58C.4 The first three lines he looked on,\nThe tears did blind his ee;\nThe neist three lines he looked on\nNot one word could he see.\n58C.5 \u2018Wha is this,\u2019 Sir Patrick says,\n\u2018That\u2019s tauld the king o me,\nTo set me out this time o the year\nTo sail upon the sea!\n58C.6 \u2018Yestreen I saw the new new mune,\nAnd the auld mune in her arm;\nAnd that is the sign since we were born\nEven of a deadly storm.\n58C.7 \u2018Drink about, my merry boys,\nFor we maun sail the morn;\nBe it wind, or be it weet,\nOr be it deadly storm.\u2019\n58C.8 We hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only ane,\nTill cauld and watry grew the wind,\nAnd stormy grew the main.\n58C.9 We hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only twa,\nTill cauld and watry grew the wind,\nCome hailing owre them a\u2019.\n58C.10 We hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only three,\nTill cold and watry grew the wind,\nAnd grumly grew the sea.\n58C.11 \u2018Wha will come,\u2019 the captain says,\n\u2018And take my helm in hand?\nOr wha\u2019ll gae up to my topmast,\nAnd look for some dry land?\n58C.12 \u2018Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,\nSee what you can spy;\nMount up, mount up, my pretty boy,\nSee if any land we\u2019re nigh.\u2019\n58C.13 \u2018We\u2019re fifty miles from shore to shore,\nAnd fifty banks of sand;\nAnd we have all that for to sail\nOr we come to dry land.\u2019\n58C.14 \u2018Come down, come down, my pretty boy,\nI think you tarry lang;\nFor the saut sea\u2019s in at our coat-neck\nAnd out at our left arm.\n58C.15 \u2018Come down, come down, my pretty boy,\nI fear we here maun die;\nFor thro and thro my goodly ship\nI see the green-waved sea.\u2019\n58C.16 Our Scotch lords were all afraid\nTo weet their cork-heeled shoon;\nBut lang or a\u2019 the play was played,\nTheir hats they swam abune.\n58C.17 The first step that the captain stept,\nIt took him to the knee,\nAnd the next step that the captain stepped\nThey were a\u2019 drownd in the sea.\n58C.18 Half owre, half owre to Aberdour\nIt\u2019s fifty fadoms deep,\nAnd there lay good Sir Patrick Spens,\nAnd the Scotch lords at his feet.\n58C.19 Lang may our Scotch lords\u2019 ladies sit,\nAnd sew their silken seam,\nBefore they see their good Scotch lords\nCome sailing owre the main.\n58C.20 Lang lang may Sir Patrick\u2019s lady\nSit rocking her auld son,\nBefore she sees Sir Patrick Spens\nCome sailing owre the main.\n58D: Sir Patrick Spens\nMotherwell\u2019s MS., p. 496, communicated by Kirkpatrick Sharpe.\n58D.1 THE king sits in Dumferling town,\nDrinking the blood red wine: O\n\u2018Where will I get a good skipper,\nTo sail seven ships o mine?\u2019 O\nWhere will, etc?p\n58D.2 O up then spake a bra young man,\nAnd a bra young man was he:\n\u2018Sir Andrew Wood is the best skipper\nThat ever saild the sea.\u2019\n58D.3 The king has written a bra letter,\nAnd seald it wi his hand,\nAnd ordered Sir Andrew Wood\nTo come at his command.\n58D.4 \u2018O wha is this, or wha is that,\nHas tauld the king o me?\nFor had he been a better man,\nHe might ha tauld a lee.\u2019\n58D.5 As I came in by the Inch, Inch, Inch,\nI heard an auld man weep:\n\u2018Sir Andrew Wood and a\u2019 his men\nAre drowned in the deep!\u2019\n58D.6 O lang lang may yon ladies stand,\nTheir fans into their hands,\nBefore they see Sir Andrew Wood\nCome sailing to dry land.\n58D.7 O laith laith were our Scottish lords\nTo weit their cork-heeled shoon;\nBut ere that a\u2019 the play was plaid,\nThey wat their heads aboon.\n58D.8 Nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen\nIs fifty fanthom deep,\nAnd there lies good Sir Andrew Wood,\nAnd a\u2019 the Scottish fleet.\n58E: Sir Patrick Spens\nMotherwell\u2019s MS., p. 348.\n58E.1 THE king sits in Dumfermline toun,\nSae merrilie drinking wine; O\nSays, Whare will I get a fine skipper,\nWud sail these ships of mine? O\n58E.2 Out and spak an auld rich knicht,\nAnd an ill death may he die!\nSays, Young Patrick is the best skipper\nThat ever set sail on sea.\n58E.3 The king did write a lang letter,\nSealed it with his own hand,\nAnd he sent it to Young Patrick,\nTo come at his command.\n58E.4 When Young Patrick read the letter lang,\nThe tear blindit his ee;\nSays Wha is this, or wha is that,\nThat\u2019s tauld the king of me?\nAltho he had been better than what he is,\nHe micht hae askt leave of me.\n58E.5 \u2018But busk, O busk, my merry men a\u2019,\nO busk and mak you braw,\nFor blaw the wind what airt it will,\nOur ship she must awa.\n58E.6 \u2018Drink, O drink, my merrie men all,\nDrink o the beer and wine,\nFor gin Wedensday by twal o\u2019clock\nWe\u2019ll a\u2019 be in our lang hame.\u2019\n58E.7 Out and spak a pretty little boy:\n\u2018I fear a deadlie storm;\nFor I saw the new mune late yestreen,\nAnd the old ane in her arm,\nAnd readilie, maister,\u2019 said he,\n\u2018That\u2019s the sign of a deadly storm.\u2019\n58E.8 Aye they sat, and aye they drank,\nThey drank of the beer and wine,\nAnd gin Wedensday gin ten o\u2019clock,\nTheir hair was wat abune.\n58E.9 \u2018Whare wuld I get a pretty little boy,\nThat wants to win hose and shoon,\nWuld up to the top of my mainmast go,\nSee if he could spy land?\u2019\n58E.10 \u2018O here am I, a pretty little boy,\nWants to win hose and shoon;\nI\u2019ll up to the top of your mainmast go,\nThough I should neer come doun.\u2019\n58E.11 \u2018Come doun, come doun, my pretty little boy,\nI think thou tarries lang;\nFor the jawe is coming in at my coat-neck,\nGoing out at my richt hand.\u2019\n58E.12 But there cum a shouir out o the Norewest,\nOf dreidfu hail and rain,\nIt made Young Patrick and his men\nA\u2019 flat wi the sea faem.\n58E.13 O is na it a great pitye\nTo see feather-beds on the main?\nBut it is a greater pitye, I think,\nTo see men doing the same.\n58E.14 There\u2019s a brig at the back o Sanct John\u2019s toun,\nIt\u2019s fifty fadom deep,\nAnd there lies a\u2019 our brau Scots lords,\nYoung Patrick\u2019s at their feet.\n58E.15 Young Patrick\u2019s lady sits at hame,\nShe\u2019s sewing her silken seam;\nAnd aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,\n\u2018I fear he\u2019ll neer return.\u2019\n58E.16 Young Patrick\u2019s lady sits at hame\nRocking her oldest son;\nAnd aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,\n\u2018I\u2019m feared he\u2019ll neer come hame.\u2019\n58F: Sir Patrick Spens\nMotherwell\u2019s MS., p. 153, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson.\n58F.1 THE king he sits on Dunfermline hill,\nDrinking baith beer and wine; O\nSays, Whare shall I get a good skipper,\nThat will sail the salt sea fine? O\n58F.2 But out then speaks an Irish knight,\nSat by the king\u2019s right knee:\n\u2018Skipper Patrick is the best skipper\nThat ever my eyes did see.\u2019\n58F.3 The king has written a lang letter,\nAnd sealed it wi his hand,\nAnd sent it to Skipper Patrick,\nAs he walked alang the sand.\n58F.4 \u2018O wha is this, or wha is that,\nThat\u2019s tauld the king of me?\nFor tho it had been the queen hersell,\nShe might hae let it be.\n58F.5 \u2018But busk you, O busk, my merry men all,\nSae merrily busk and boune,\nFor blaw the wind where eer it will,\nOur gude ship sails the morn.\u2019\n58F.6 \u2018O no, O no, our dear master,\nIt will be a deidly storm;\nFor yestreen I saw the new new mune,\nWi the auld mune in her arm;\nIt\u2019s a token, maister, or ye were born,\nIt will be a deadly storm.\u2019\n58F.7 \u2018But busk, O busk, my merrie men all,\nOur gude ship sails the morn,\nFor blow the wind whereer it will,\nOur gude ship sails the morn.\u2019\n58F.8 They had na sailed a day, a day,\nA day but scarsely five,\nTill Skipper Patrick\u2019s bonny ship\nBegan to crack and rive.\n58F.9 It\u2019s bonny was the feather beds\nThat swimmed alang the main,\nBut bonnier was our braw Scots lords,\nThey neer returned again.\n58F.10 Our Scots lords they are all laith\nTo weet their coal black shoon;\nBut I trow or a\u2019 the play was played,\nThey wat their hair abune.\n58F.11 Our ladies may stand upon the sand,\nKembing down their yellow hair,\nBut they will neer see Skipper Patrick\u2019s ship\nCome sailing in nae mair.\n58F.12 Our ladies may stand upon the sand\nWi gloves upon their hand,\nBut they will never see Skipper Patrick\u2019s ship\nCome sailing into the land.\n58F.13 O vour and o vour to bonnie Aberdour\nIt\u2019s fifty fadoms deep;\nThere you will find young Patrick lye,\nWi his Scots lords at his head.\n58F.14 Row owre, row owre to Aberdour,\nIt\u2019s fifty fadom deep;\nAnd there lies Earl Patrick Spens,\nHis men all at his feet.\nChild 58G: Sir Patrick Spens\nJamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 157, communicated by Scott.\n58G.1 THE king sits in Dunfermlin town,\nSae merrily drinkin the wine:\n\u2018Whare will I get a mariner,\nWill sail this ship o mine?\u2019\n58G.2 Then up bespak a bonny boy,\nSat just at the king\u2019s knee:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spence is the best seaman,\nThat eer set foot on sea.\u2019\n58G.3 The king has written a braid letter,\nSeald it wi his ain hand;\nHe has sent word to Sir Patrick,\nTo come at his command.\n58G.4 \u2018O wha is this, or wha is that,\nHas tald the king o me?\nFor I was never a good seaman,\nNor ever intend to be.\u2019\n58G.5 They mounted sail on Munenday morn,\nWi a\u2019 the haste they may,\nAnd they hae landed in Norraway,\nUpon the Wednesday.\n58G.6 They hadna been a month, a month\nIn Norraway but three,\nTill lads o Norraway began to say,\nYe spend a\u2019 our white monie.\n58G.7 \u2018Ye spend a\u2019 our good kingis goud,\nBut and our queenis fee:\u2019\n\u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,\nSae weel\u2019s I hear you lie.\n58G.8 \u2018For I brought as much white money\nAs will gain my men and me;\nI brought half a fou o good red goud\nOut oer the sea with me.\n58G.9 \u2018Be\u2019t wind or weet, be\u2019t snaw or sleet,\nOur ships maun sail the morn:\u2019\n\u2018O ever alack! my master dear,\nI fear a deadly storm.\n58G.10 \u2018I saw the new moon late yestreen,\nWi the auld moon in her arm;\nAnd if we gang to sea, master,\nI fear we\u2019ll suffer harm.\u2019\n58G.11 They hadna sailed a league on sea,\nA league but barely ane,\nTill anchors brak, and tap-masts lap;\nThere came a deadly storm.\n58G.12 \u2018Whare will I get a bonny boy\nWill tak thir sails in hand,\nThat will gang up to the tap-mast,\nSee an he ken dry land?\u2019\n58G.13 Laith, laith were our good Scots lords\nTo weet their leathern shoon;\nBut or the morn at fair day-light,\nTheir hats were wat aboon.\n58G.14 Mony was the feather bed,\nThat flotterd on the faem,\nAnd mony was the good Scots lord\nGaed awa that neer cam hame,\nAnd mony was the fatherless bairn\nThat lay at hame greetin.\n58G.15 It\u2019s forty miles to Aberdeen,\nAnd fifty fathoms deep;\nAnd there lyes a\u2019 our good Scots lords,\nWi Sir Patrick at their feet.\n58G.16 The ladies crackt their fingers white,\nThe maidens tore their hair,\nA\u2019 for the sake o their true loves,\nFor them they neer saw mair.\n58G.17 Lang, lang may our ladies stand,\nWi their fans in their hand,\nEre they see Sir Patrick and his men\nCome sailing to the land.\n58H: Sir Patrick Spens\nMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 64, ed. 1803; I, 299, ed. 1833; \"taken from two MS. copies, collated with several verses recited by the editor\u2019s friend, Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate.\"\n58H.1 THE king sits in Dumfermline town,\nDrinking the blude-red wine: O\n\u2018O whare will I get a skeely skipper,\nTo sail this new ship of mine?\u2019 O\n58H.2 O up and spake an eldern knight,\nSat at the king\u2019s right knee:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor\nThat ever saild the sea.\u2019\n58H.3 Our king has written a braid letter,\nAnd seald it with his hand,\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,\nWas walking on the strand.\n58H.4 \u2018To Noroway, to Noroway,\nTo Noroway oer the faem;\nThe king\u2019s daughter of Noroway,\n\u2019Tis thou maun bring her hame.\u2019\n58H.5 The first word that Sir Patrick read,\nSae loud, loud laughed he;\nThe neist word that Sir Patrick read,\nThe tear blinded his ee.\n58H.6 \u2018O wha is this has done this deed,\nAnd tauld the king o me,\nTo send us out at this time of the year\nTo sail upon the sea?\n58H.7 \u2018Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,\nOur ship must sail the faem;\nThe king\u2019s daughter of Noroway,\n\u2019Tis we must fetch her hame.\u2019\n58H.8 They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,\nWi a\u2019 the speed they may;\nThey hae landed in Noroway,\nUpon a Wodensday.\n58H.9 They hadna been a week, a week\nIn Noroway but twae,\nWhen that the lords o Noroway\nBegan aloud to say:\n58H.10 \u2018Ye Scottishmen spend a\u2019 our king\u2019s goud,\nAnd a\u2019 our queenis fee!\u2019\n\u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,\nFu loud I hear ye lie!\n58H.11 \u2018For I brought as much white monie\nAs gane my men and me,\nAnd I brought a half-fou o gude red goud\nOut oer the sea wi me.\n58H.12 \u2018Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a\u2019,\nOur gude ship sails the morn:\u2019\n\u2018Now, ever alake! my master dear,\nI fear a deadly storm!\n58H.13 \u2018I saw the new moo late yestreen,\nWi the auld moon in her arm;\nAnd if we gang to sea, master,\nI fear we\u2019ll come to harm.\u2019\n58H.14 They hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but barely three,\nWhen the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,\nAnd gurly grew the sea.\n58H.15 The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,\nIt was sic a deadly storm,\nAnd the waves came oer the broken ship,\nTill a\u2019 her sides were torn.\n58H.16 \u2018O where will I get a gude sailor,\nTo take my helm in hand,\nTill I get up to the tall topmast,\nTo see if I can spy land?\u2019\n58H.17 \u2018O here am I, a sailor gude,\nTo take the helm in hand,\nTill you go up to the tall topmast;\nBut I fear you\u2019ll neer spy land.\u2019\n58H.18 He hadna gane a step, a step,\nA step but barely ane,\nWhen a bout flew out of our goodly ship,\nAnd the salt sea it came in.\n58H.19 \u2018Gae fetch a web o the silken claith,\nAnother o the twine,\nAnd wap them into our ship\u2019s side,\nAnd letna the sea come in.\u2019\n58H.20 They fetched a web o the silken claith,\nAnother o the twine,\nAnd they wapped them roun that gude ship\u2019s side,\nBut still the sea came in.\n58H.21 O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords\nTo weet their cork-heeld shoon;\nBut lang or a\u2019 the play was playd,\nThey wat their hats aboon.\n58H.22 And mony was the feather-bed\nThat flattered on the faem,\nAnd mony was the gude lord\u2019s son\nThat never mair cam hame.\n58H.23 The ladyes wrang their fingers white,\nThe maidens tore their hair,\nA\u2019 for the sake of their true loves,\nFor them they\u2019ll see na mair.\n58H.24 O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,\nWi their fans into their hand,\nBefore they see Sir Patrick Spens\nCome sailing to the strand.\n58H.25 And lang, lang may the maidens sit,\nWi their goud kaims in their hair,\nA\u2019 waiting for their ain dear loves,\nFor them they\u2019ll see na mair.\n58H.26 O forty miles off Aberdeen\n\u2019Tis fifty fathoms deep,\nAnd there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,\nWi the Scots lords at his feet.\n58I: Sir Patrick Spens\nBuchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 550.\n58I.1 THE king sits in Dumfermline town,\nA-drinking at the wine;\nSays, Where will I get a good skipper,\nWill sail the saut seas fine?\n58I.2 Out it speaks an eldren knight\nAmang the companie:\n\u2018Young Patrick Spens is the best skipper\nThat ever saild the sea.\u2019\n58I.3 The king he wrote a braid letter,\nAnd seald it wi his ring;\nSays, Ye\u2019ll gie that to Patrick Spens,\nSee if ye can him find.\n58I.4 He sent this not wi an auld man,\nNor yet a simple boy,\nBut the best o nobles in his train\nThis letter did convoy.\n58I.5 When Patrick lookd the letter upon\nA light laugh then gae he;\nBut ere he read it till an end,\nThe tear blinded his ee.\n58I.6 Ye\u2019ll eat and drink, my merry men a\u2019,\nAn see ye be weell thorn;\nFor blaw it weet, or blaw it wind,\nMy guid ship sails the morn.\u2019\n58I.7 Then out it speaks a guid auld man,\nA guid death mat he dee!\n\u2018Whatever ye do, my guid master,\nTak God your guide to bee.\n58I.8 \u2018For late yestreen I saw the new moon,\nThe auld moon in her arm:\u2019\n\u2018Ohon, alas!\u2019 says Patrick Spens,\n\u2018That bodes a deadly storm.\n58I.9 \u2018But I maun sail the seas the morn,\nAnd likewise sae maun you;\nTo Noroway, wi our king\u2019s daughter,\nA chosen queen she\u2019s now.\n58I.10 \u2018But I wonder who has been sae base\nAs tauld the king o mee;\nEven tho he ware my ae brither,\nAn ill death mat he dee!\u2019\n58I.11 Now Patrick he riggd out his ship,\nAnd sailed ower the faem,\nBut mony a dreary thought had hee,\nWhile hee was on the main.\n58I.12 They hadna saild upon the sea\nA day but barely three,\nTill they came in sight o Noroway,\nIt\u2019s there where they must bee.\n58I.13 They hadna stayed into that place\nA month but and a day,\nTill he causd the flip in mugs gae roun,\nAnd wine in cans sae gay.\n58I.14 The pipe and harp sae sweetly playd,\nThe trumpets loudly soun;\nIn every hall where in they stayd,\nWi their mirth did reboun.\n58I.15 Then out it speaks an auld skipper,\nAn inbearing dog was hee:\n\u2018Ye\u2019ve stayd ower lang in Noroway,\nSpending your king\u2019s monie.\u2019\n58I.16 Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens: \u2018O how can a\u2019 this bee?\nI hae a bow o guid red gowd\nInto my ship wi mee.\n58I.17 \u2018But betide me well, betide me wae, This day I\u2019se leave the shore,\nAnd never spend my king\u2019s monie\nMong Noroway dogs no more.\u2019\n58I.18 Young Patrick hee is on the sea,\nAnd even on the faem,\nWi five-an-fifty Scots lords\u2019 sons,\nThat langd to bee at hame.\n58I.19 They hadna saild upon the sea\nA day but barely three,\nTill loud and boistrous grew the wind,\nAnd stormy grew the sea.\n58I.20 \u2018O where will I get a little wee boy\nWill tak my helm in hand,\nTill I gae up to my tapmast,\nAnd see for some dry land?\u2019\n58I.21 He hadna gane to his tapmast\nA step but barely three,\nEre thro and thro the bonny ship\u2019s side\nHe saw the green haw sea.\n58I.22 \u2018There are five-an-fifty feather beds\nWell packed in ae room;\nAnd ye\u2019ll get as muckle guid canvas\nAs wrap the ship a\u2019 roun.\n58I.23 \u2018Ye\u2019ll pict her well, and spare her not,\nAnd mak her hale and soun:\u2019\nBut ere he had the word well spoke\nThe bonny ship was down.\n58I.24 O laith, laith were our guid lords\u2019 sons\nTo weet their milk-white hands;\nBut lang ere a\u2019 the play was ower,\nThey wat their gowden bands.\n58I.25 O laith, laith were our Scots lords\u2019 sons\nTo weet their coal-black shoon;\nBut lang ere a\u2019 the play was ower,\nThey wat their hats aboon.\n58I.26 It\u2019s even ower by Aberdour\nIt\u2019s fifty fathoms deep,\nAnd yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,\nAnd a\u2019s men at his feet.\n58I.27 It\u2019s even ower by Aberdour,\nThere\u2019s mony a craig and fin,\nAnd yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,\nWi mony a guid lord\u2019s son.\n58I.28 Lang, lang will the ladyes look,\nInto their morning weed,\nBefore they see young Patrick Spens\nCome sailing ower the fleed.\n58I.29 Lang, lang will the ladyes look,\nWi their fans in their hand,\nBefore they see him Patrick Spens\nCome sailing to dry land.\nChild 58J: Sir Patrick Spens\nMiss Harris\u2019s MS., fol. 4, from the singing of her mother.\n58J.1 HIE sits oor king in Dumfermline,\nSits birlin at the wine;\nSays, Whare will I get a bonnie boy\nThat will sail the saut seas fine?\nThat will hie owre to Norraway,\nTo bring my dear dochter hame?\n58J.2 Up it spak a bonnie boy,\nSat by the king\u2019s ain knie:\n\u2018Sir Patrick Spens is as gude a skipper\nAs ever sailed the sea.\u2019\n58J.3 The king has wrote a broad letter,\nAnd signed it wi his hand,\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,\nTo read it gif he can.\n58J.4 The firsten line he luikit on,\nA licht lauchter gae he;\nBut ere he read it to the end,\nThe tear blindit his ee.\n58J.5 \u2018O wha is this, or wha is that,\nHas tauld oor king o me?\nI wad hae gien him twice as muckle thank\nTo latten that abee!\n58J.6 \u2018But eat an drink, my merrie young men,\nEat, an be weel forn;\nFor blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,\nOor gude ship sails the morn.\u2019\n58J.7 Up it spak his youngest son,\nSat by Sir Patrick\u2019s knie:\n\u2018I beg you bide at hame, father,\nAn I pray be ruled by me.\n58J.8 \u2018For I saw the new mune late yestreen,\nWi the auld mune in her arms;\nAn ever an alake, my father dear,\nIt\u2019s a token o diedly storms.\u2019\n58J.9 \u2018It\u2019s eat an drink, my merrie young men,\nEat, an be weel forn;\nFor blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,\nOor gude ship sails the morn.\u2019\n58J.10 They hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only three,\nWhen the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws\nCam drivin to their knie.\n58J.11 They hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only five,\nWhen the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws\nTheir gude ship began to rive.\n58J.12 They hadna sailed a league, a league,\nA league but only nine,\nWhen the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws\nCam drivin to their chin.\n58J.13 \u2018O whaur will I get a bonnie boy\nWill tak the steer in hand,\nTill I mount up to oor tapmast,\nTo luik oot for dry land?\u2019\n58J.14 \u2018O here am I, a bonnie boy,\nWill tak the steer in hand,\nTill you mount up to oor tapmast,\nTo luik oot for dry land.\u2019\n58J.15 He\u2019s gaen up to the tapmast,\nTo the tapmast sae hie;\nHe luikit around on every side,\nBut dry land he couldna see.\n58J.16 He luikit on his youngest son,\nAn the tear blindit he ee;\nSays, I wish you had been in your mother\u2019s bowr,\nBut there you\u2019ll never be.\n58J.17 \u2018Pray for yoursels, my merrie young men,\nPray for yoursels an me,\nFor the first landen that we will land\nWill be in the boddam o the sea.\u2019\n58J.18 Then up it raise the mermaiden,\nWi the comb an glass in her hand:\n\u2018Here\u2019s a health to you, my merrie young men,\nFor you never will see dry land.\u2019\n58J.19 O laith, laith waur oor gude Scots lords\nTo weet their cork-heeled shoon;\nBut lang, lang ere the play was played,\nTheir yellow locks soomed aboun.\n58J.20 There was Saturday, an Sabbath day,\nAn Monnonday at morn,\nThat feather-beds an silken sheets\nCan floatin to Kinghorn.\n58J.21 It\u2019s och, och owre to Aberdour,\nIt\u2019s fifty faddoms deep;\nAn there lie a\u2019 oor gude Scots lords,\nWi Sir Patrick Spens at their feet.\n58J.22 O lang, lang will his lady sit,\nWi the fan into her hand,\nUntil she see her ain dear lord\nCome sailin to dry land.\n58J.23 O lang, lang will his lady sit,\nWi the tear into her ee,\nAfore she see her ain dear lord\nCome hieing to Dundee.\n58J.24 O lang, lang will his lady sit,\nWi the black shoon on her feet,\nAfore she see Sir Patrick Spens\nCome drivin up the street.\n58K: Sir Patrick Spens\nCommunicated by Mr Murison, as taken down from recitation in Old Deer by Mrs Murison.\n58K.1 IT\u2019S when he read the letter ower\nA licht lauch then leuch he;\nBut lang ere he wan the end o it\nThe saut tear filled his ee.\n58K.2 \u2018O woe be to the man,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018That\u2019s tauld the king o me;\nAltho he be my ain brither,\nSome ill death mat he dee!\n58K.3 . . . . . .\n. . . .\n\u2018For be it weet, or be it win,\nMy bonnie ship sails the morn.\u2019\n\u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019\n58K.4 \u2018For late the streen I saw the new meen,\nBit an the auld ane tee.\nAn it fears me sair, my good maister,\nFor a tempest in the sea.\u2019\n58K.5 . . . . .\n. . . . . .\nTill up it rase the win an storm,\nAn a tempest i the sea.\n58K.6 . . . . . .\n. . . . .\nIt\u2019s throch an throu the comely cog\nThere comes the green raw sea.\n\u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019 \u2019\u2019\n58K.7 \u2018Call upo your men, maister,\nAn dinna call on me,\nFor ye drank them weel ere ye tuke the gate,\nBut O nane gae ye me.\n58K.8 \u2018Ye beat my back, an beat my sides,\nWhen I socht hose an sheen;\nSo call upo your men, maister,\nAs they lie drunk wi wine.\u2019\n58K.9 \u2018Come doon, come doon, my bonnie boy,\nAn tak my helm in han;\nGin ever we live to gae to lan,\nI\u2019ll wed ye wi my daughter Ann.\u2019\n58K.10 \u2018Ye used me ill, my guid maister,\nWhen we was on the lan,\nBut nevertheless, my gude maister,\nI\u2019ll tak your helm in han.\u2019\n58K.11 O laith, laith was oor bonny boys\nTo weet their cork-heeled shoes;\nBut lang ere a\u2019 the play was played,\nThey wat their yallow broos.\n58K.12 O laith, laith was oor bonnie boys\nTo weet their cork-heeled sheen;\nBut lang ere a\u2019 the play was played,\nThey wat their hair abeen.\n58K.13 \u2018O lang, lang will my lady leuk,\nWi the lantern in her han,\nAfore she see my bonnie ship\nCome sailin to dry lan.\u2019\n58K.14 Atween Leith an Aberdeen\nLies mony a craig an sea,\nAn there it lies young Patrick Spens,\nAn mony bonnie boys him wi.\nChild 58L: Sir Patrick Spens\nMotherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 6, Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 156, from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, February 1825.\n58L.1 OUR ship it was a gudely ship,\nIts topmast was of gold,\nAnd at every tack of needlework\nThere hung a silver bell.\n58L.2 Up started the mermaid by our ship,\nWi the glass and the comb in her hand:\n\u2018Reek about, reek about, my merrie men,\nYe are not far from land.\u2019\n58L.3 \u2018You lie, you lie, you pretty mermaid,\nSae loud as I hear you lie;\nFor since I have seen your face this nicht,\nThe land I will never see.\u2019\n58L.4 We hadna sailed a league but ane,\nA league but barely three,\nTill all we and our goodly ship\nWas all drowned in the sea.\n58L.5 Lang lang may our ladies stand,\nWi their seams into their hand,\nLooking for Sir Patrick\u2019s ship,\nThat will never come to land.\n58M: Sir Patrick Spens\nBuchan\u2019s Gleaning, p. 196, \"from a very intelligent old man.\"\n58M.1 THERE shall no man go to my ship\nTill I say mass and dine,\nAnd take my leave of my lady;\nGo to my bonny ship syne.\n58M.2 When he was up at the top-mast head\nAround could naething see,\nBut terrible storm in the air aboon,\nAnd below the roaring sea.\n58M.3 \u2018Come down, come down, my good master,\nYou see not what I see;\nFor thro an thro your bonny ship\u2019s side\nI see the green salt sea.\u2019\n58M.4 Lang lang will the ladies look,\nWi their gown-tails owre their crown,\nBefore they see Sir Patrick Spens\nSailing to Dumferline town.\nChild 58N: Sir Patrick Spens\nNoted down from a female servant, by Joseph Robertson, July, 15, 1829, Adversaria, p. 67.\n58N.1 OWER and ower by Aberdour\nThere\u2019s mony a cloudy stone,\nAnd there is mony a gude lord\u2019s son\nI fear will never come home.\n58N.2 Lang, lang will his lady look,\nWi her baby in her arms,\nBut she\u2019ll never see Earl Patrick Spens\nCom walkin up the stran.\n58N.3 \u2018I have a table in my room,\nIt cost me guineas nine;\nI wad sink it in the sea\nFor ae sight o dry lan.\n58N.4 \u2018There\u2019s a coast o green velvet on my back,\nI got it for my fee;\nBut tho I wad gie ten thousan punds,\nDry land I will never see.\u2019\n58O: Sir Patrick Spens\nGibb MS., p. 63.\n58O.1 BONNY were the feather beds\nCam sailin ower the faem,\nBut bonnier was the sexteen lords\nGaed out and neer cam hame.\n58O.2 Lang, lang may the nourice sit,\nWi the bonny babe on her knee,\nEre ever she see her good lord come,\nTo pay to her her fee.\n58O.3 An lang, lang will the lady sit,\nWi the gowd fan in her hand,\nEre ever she see her ain gude lord\nCome skipping to dry land.\n58 P: Sir Patrick Spens\nKinloch MSS, I, 281.\n58P.1 FU laith, fu laith was our braw Scots lords\nTo weet their coal black shoon;\nBut ere the battle a\u2019 was foucht,\nTheir hats war weet aboun.\n58P.2 Out and starts the mermaiden,\nWi a fan into her hand:\n\u2018Keep up your hearts, my merry men a\u2019,\nFor ye\u2019re near the dry land.\u2019\n58P.3 Out and spak Earl Patrick Graham,\nWi the saut tear in his ee:\n\u2018Now sin we\u2019ve seen the mermaiden,\nDry land we\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n58P.4 Down below Dunbarton castle,\nFull fifty fathoms deep,\nThere lies a\u2019 our braw Scots men,\nEarl Patrick at their feet.\n58 Q: Sir Patrick Spens\nFinlay\u2019s Scottish Ballads, I, xiv, from a recited copy.\n58Q.1 THEN up an cam a mermaid,\nWi a siller cup in her han:\n\u2018Sail on, sail on, my gude Scotch lords,\nFor ye sune will see dry lan.\u2019\n58Q.2 \u2018Awa, awa, ye wind woman,\nAn let your fleechin be;\nFor sen your face we\u2019ve seen the day,\nDry lan we\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n58R: Sir Patrick Spens\nCommunicated by Mr Macmath, from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C., Edinburgh; obtained originally in Perthsire.\n58R \u2019TWAS late, late on a Saturday night,\nAnd early on a Sunday morn,\nThat robes of silk and feather beds\nCame floating to Kean-Gorn.","title":"The Child Ballads: 58. Sir Patrick Spens","type":"page"}