SIR PATRICK SPENS
1 The
king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid
wine:
‘O whar will I get guid
sailor,
To sail this schip of
mine?’
2 Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
‘Sir Patrick Spence is the
best sailor
That sails upon the se.’
3 The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick
Spence,
Was walking on the sand.
4 The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir
Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.
5 ‘O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o’
the yeir,
To sail upon the se!
6 ‘Mak hast, 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.
7 ‘Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir
arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir
master,
That we will cum to harme.’
8 O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild
schoone;
Bot lang owre a’ the play
wer playd,
Their hats they swam
aboone.
9 O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their
hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick
Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
10 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.
11 Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It’s fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir
Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his
feit.
Source of the text – The
English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. II., edited by Francis James
Child. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 1965, p. 20-21.
TJB: Those are plurals that were his eyes. Rich in dialogue, rich in poetic doublets, this sea shanty gorgeously, musically, compresses its narrative.
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