1.
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
'O whar will I get [a] guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?'
2.
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the king's richt kne:
'Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se.'
3.
The king has written a braid letter,
And sign'd 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 done this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!
6.
'Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:'
'O say na sae, my master deir,
Fir 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-heil'd schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer play'd,
Thair 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 kerns 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.
[Annotations:
1.1: 'Dumferling,' _i.e._ Dunfermline, on the north side of the
Firth of Forth.]