| |
| THE KING sits in Dumferling toune, | |
| Drinking the blude-reid wine: | |
| “O whar will I get guid sailor, | |
| To sail this schip of mine?” | |
| |
| Up and spak an eldern 1 knicht, | 5 |
| Sat at the kings richt kne: | |
| “Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor | |
| That sails upon the se.” | |
| |
| The king has written a braid letter, | |
| And signd it wi his hand, | 10 |
| And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, | |
| Was walking on the sand. | |
| |
| The first line that Sir Patrick red, | |
| A loud lauch lauched he; | |
| The next line that Sir Patrick red, | 15 |
| The teir blinded his ee. | |
| |
| “O wha is this has don this deid, | |
| This ill died don to me, | |
| To send me out this time o’ the yeir, | |
| To sail upon the se! | 20 |
| |
| “Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all, | |
| Our guid schip sails the morne:” | |
| “O say na sae, my master deir, | |
| For I feir a deadlie storme. | |
| |
| “Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, | 25 |
| Wi the auld moone in her arme, | |
| And I feir, I feir, my deir master, | |
| That we will cum to harme.” | |
| |
| O our Scots nobles wer richt laith | |
| To weet their cork-heild schoone; | 30 |
| Bot lang owre a’ the play wer play’d, | |
| Thair hats they swam aboone. | |
| |
| O lang, lang may their ladies sit, | |
| Wi thair fans into their hand, | |
| Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence | 35 |
| Cum sailing to the land. | |
| |
| O lang, lang may the ladies stand, | |
| Wi thair gold kems in their hair, | |
| Waiting for thair ain deir lords, | |
| For they’ll se thame na mair. | 40 |
| |
| Haf owre, 2 half owre to Aberdour, | |
| It’s fiftie fadom deip, | |
| And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, | |
| Wi the Scots lords at his feit. | |
