Quo' the skipper, "Ye are a lady fair,
An' a princess gran' to see,
But war ye a beggar, a man wud sail
To the hell i' yer company!"
She liftit a pale an' a queenly face,
Her een flashed, an' syne they swam:
"An' what for no to the hevin?" she says,
An' she turnt awa frae him.
Bot she tuik na her han' frae the gude ship's helm
Till the day begouth to daw;
An' the skipper he spak, but what was said
It was said atween them twa.
An' syne the gude ship she lay to,
Wi' Scotlan' hyne un'er the lee;
An' the king cam up the cabin-stair
Wi' wan face an' bluidshot ee.
Laigh loutit the skipper upo' the deck;
"Stan' up, stan' up," quo' the king;
"Ye're an honest loun—an' beg me a boon
Quhan ye gie me back this ring."
Lowne blew the win'; the stars cam oot;
The ship turnt frae the north;
An' or ever the sun was up an' aboot
They war intil the firth o' Forth.
Quhan the gude ship lay at the pier-heid,
And the king stude steady o' the lan',—
"Doon wi' ye, skipper—doon!" he said,
"Hoo daur ye afore me stan'!"
The skipper he loutit on his knee;
The king his blade he drew:
Quo' the king, "Noo mynt ye to centre me!
I'm aboord my vessel noo!
"Gien I hadna been yer verra gude lord
I wud hae thrawn yer neck!
Bot—ye wha loutit Skipper o' Doon,
Rise up Yerl o' Waterydeck."
The skipper he rasena: "Yer Grace is great,
Yer wull it can heize or ding:
Wi' ae wee word ye hae made me a yerl—
Wi' anither mak me a king."