“Gae, fetch a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And let na the sea come in.”
They fetchd a web o the silken claith,
Another o the twine,
And they wapped them roun that gude ship’s side
But still the sea came in.
O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
To weet their cork-heel’d shoon!
But lang or a the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon,
And mony was the feather-bed
That fluttered on the faem,
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.
The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A’ for the sake of their true loves,
For them they’ll see na mair.
O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang may the maidens sit,
Wi’ their goud kaims in their hair,
A’ waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they’ll see na mair.
O forty miles off Aberdeen,
’Tis fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet.
BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE
(Child, vol. vi.)