| |
| THE KING sits in Dumferling toune, | |
| Drinking the blude-reid wine: | |
| O quhar will I get guid sailór, | |
| To sail this schip of mine? | |
| |
| Up and spak an eldern knicht, | 5 |
| Sat at the kings richt kne: | |
| Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailór, | |
| That sails upon the se. | |
| |
| The king has written a braid letter, | |
| And signed 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 quha is this has don this deid, | |
| This ill deid don to me; | |
| To send me out this time o’ the zeir, | |
| 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 hir arme; | |
| And I feir, I feir, my deir mastér, | |
| That we will com to harme. | |
| |
| O our Scots nobles wer richt laith | |
| To weet their cork-heild schoone; | 30 |
| Bot lang owre a’ the play wer playd, | |
| Thair hats they swam aboone. | |
| |
| O lang, lang may thair 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 |
| |
| Have owre, have owre to Aberdour, | |
| It ’s fiftie fadom deip: | |
| And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, | |
| Wi’ the Scots lords at his feit. | |
| |
