SCHIR PATRICK SPENS

The King sits in Dunfermline toun
Drinkin’ the bluid red wine,
An’ he has ca’ed for the best Skipper
In Fife and a’ the land.

Then oot it spak an Auld carl
Stood by the Kings ain knee;
Said Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sailed the sea.

The King has screived a lang letter
An’ signed it wis ain hand
An’ sent it tae young Patrick Spens
Was walkin’ on Leith Strand.

Tae Narrows’, tae Norrowa’,
Tae Norrowa’ oer the faem,
The King’s dochter o’ Norrowa’,
Tis ye maun bring her hame.

They hadna been In Norrowa’,
A week but barely three.
Whan a’ the Lairds a’ Norrowa’
Did up an’ spak sae free.

These ootland Scots waste oor King’s gowd
An’ swallow car Queen’s fee !
Weary faa the tongue that spak
Sic a muckle lee !

Tak tent, tak tent, ma gweed men a’,
An’ mind ye be wool forn,
For come ir wind or come it hail,
Oor gweed ship sails the morn.

They haudna sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Whan the lift grew dark, an’ the wind blew loud,
An’ gurly grew the sea.

The anchors brak an’ the Tap-mast lap.
It wis sic a deadly storm,
An’ the waves cam o’er the broken ship
Till a’ her sides were torn.

O laith, laith were oor gweed Scots Lords
To wat their coal black shoon,
But lang oer a’ the Play wis dune,
They wat their hats aboon.

O lang. lang will the ladies sit,
Wi’ their fans intil their hands
Before they see Schir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the land.

Half ower, half cwer to Aberdour,
Where the sea’s sat wide and deep.
It’s there lies young Sir Patrick Spens
Wi’ the Scots Lairds at his feet.