The English and Scottish Popular Ballads Edited by Francis James Child. |
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Skipper Patrick
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 | The English and Scottish Popular Ballads |  |
Skipper Patrick
SIR PATRICK SPENS—F
1
The king he sits on Dunfermline hill,Drinking baith beer and wine; O
Says, Whare shall I get a good skipper,
That will sail the salt sea fine? O
2
But out then speaks an Irish knight,Sat by the king's right knee:
‘Skipper Patrick is the best skipper
That ever my eyes did see.’
3
The king has written a lang letter,And sealed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Skipper Patrick,
As he walked alang the sand.
4
‘O wha is this, or wha is that,That's tauld the king of me?
For tho it had been the queen hersell,
She might hae let it be.
5
‘But busk you, O busk, my merry men all,Sae merrily busk and boune,
For blaw the wind where eer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.’
6
‘O no, O no, our dear master,It will be a deidly storm;
For yestreen I saw the new new mune,
Wi the auld mune in her arm;
It's a token, maister, or ye were born,
It will be a deadly storm.’
7
‘But busk, O busk, my merrie men all,Our gude ship sails the morn,
For blow the wind whereer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.’
8
They had na sailed a day, a day,A day but scarsely five,
Till Skipper Patrick's bonny ship
Began to crack and rive.
9
It's bonny was the feather bedsThat swimmed alang the main,
But bonnier was our braw Scots lords,
They neer returned again.
10
Our Scots lords they are all laithTo weet their coal black shoon;
But I trow or a' the play was played,
They wat their hair abune.
25
11
Our ladies may stand upon the sand,Kembing down their yellow hair,
But they will neer see Skipper Patrick's ship
Come sailing in nae mair.
12
Our ladies may stand upon the sandWi gloves upon their hand,
But they will never see Skipper Patrick's ship
Come sailing into the land.
13
O vour and o vour to bonnie AberdourIt's fifty fadoms deep;
There you will find young Patrick lye,
Wi his Scots lords at his head.
14
Row owre, row owre to Aberdour,It's fifty fadom deep;
And there lies Earl Patrick Spens,
His men all at his feet.
| The English and Scottish Popular Ballads | |