Patrick Spence

The king sits in Dunfermline town, drinking his blood-red wine
'Where can I get a mariner to sail seven ships of mine?'
Then up spoke a fine young man, a fine young man was he
«Sir Patrick Spens is the best mariner that ever sailed on the sea,»
The king he’s written a broad letter and signed it with his own hand
And sent it off to Sir Patrick Spens, waiting there on the strand
The very first line Sir Patrick he read, a littl loud laugh gave he
The vry last line Sir Patrick he read, the salt tear blint his ee
«Oh, who is it that has done this thing and told the tale on me
I never was a mariner and I don’t intend to be
Late yestreen, I saw the new moon, the old moon in her arms
I fear, I fear a deadly storm, our ship, she will come to harm,»
Rise up, rise up, my fine men, our ship she sails in the morn
Whether it’s windy or whether it’s wet or whether there’s a deadly storm
They hadn’t been sailing a league or more, a league or barely nine
When the wind and the wet, the cold and the snow come blowing up behind
«Oh where, oh where’s the cabin boy to take the helm in hand
While I go up to the topmast side, see if I can spy some land,»
«Come down, come down, Sir Patrick Spens, for fear that we all must die
For in and out of the good ship’s hull, the wind and the ocean fly,»