Sir Patrick Spens

Aye, sits a king in Dunfermline Drinking the blood-red wine "Where can I get me a good skipper To sail this new ship of mine?" And up and spoke a noble lord Who sat at the king's right hand "It's you must get Sir Patrick Spens He's walking out on the strand" And the king has written a broad letter And sealed it with his hand And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens As he walked out on the strand And the first line that Sir Patrick read Loud, loud laughed he The next line that Sir Patrick read Oh, the tear blinded his e'e "Oh, who is this, has done this deed And told the king on me To send us out this time of the year To sail the Wintry sea?" "For I saw the old moon late last night With the new moon in her arms Oh, master dear, if you set to sea I fear you'll come to harm" "Be it wind, be it wet, be it snow or sleet Our good ship must sail the morn To gang awa' to Norowa To take the king's bride home We hoisted sail on a Monday morn With all the speed we made When we landed in to Norowa Afore the Wednesday And we had not been in Norowa A week but barely twa When that the lords of Norowa Out loud began to say "You Scotsmen spend all our queen's gold And swallow our queen's fee!" "You lie, you lie, you lie as loud So loud, I hear you lie!" "For I have brought as much money As demon of enemy And I have brought as much red gold Out o'er the sea with me "Make ready, make ready my merry men all Out ship must sail in the morn" "You must do as you like, my master, dear But I fear a deadly storm" And we had not sailed a league, a league A league, but barely three When the sky grew dark and the wind blew high And loud, loud roared the sea "Oh, where can I get me a bonnie boy Who'll take my helm in hand? While I climb to the topmast rail To see if I can find land" "Oh, here am I, a bonnie boy Who'll take your helm in hand While you climb to the topmast rail But I fear you will never find land" But he had not climbed a rung, a rung A rung, but barely three When a voice came calling up to him "Come down and speak with me" "There's a hole, a hole in our ship's side And through it pours the sea" "Oh, fetch me a web of the silken cloth And another of the twine And bind it round our good ship's side Let not the water in" So they fetched him a bolt of the silken cloth And another of the twine And they bound it round our good ship's side But still the sea poured And loath, loath were those good Scots lords To wet their cork-heeled shoen But long e'er all the play was played Their hats were under the foam And many were the feather beds That floated on from the foam And many were the good Scots lords That never more came home Long, long may the ladies sit Their fans into their hand Awaiting for Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing o'er to Leith strand Long, long may the ladies sit Their gold combs in their hand Awaiting for their husbands, dear But home they'll come no more And three miles off Aberdeen Go fifty fathoms deep And there you'll find Sir Patrick Spens With the Scots lords at his feet