They hadna stayed into that place
A month but and a day,50
Till he caus'd the flip in mugs gae roun',
And wine in cans sae gay.
The pipe and harp sae sweetly play'd,
The trumpets loudly soun';
In every hall where in they stay'd,55
Wi' their mirth did reboun'.
Then out it speaks an auld skipper,
An inbearing dog was hee,—
"Ye've stay'd ower lang in Noroway,
Spending your king's monie."60
Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens,—
"O how can a' this bee?
I ha'e a bow o' guid red gowd
Into my ship wi' mee.
"But betide me well, betide me wae,65
This day I'se leave the shore;
And never spend my king's monie
'Mong Noroway dogs no more."
Young Patrick hee is on the sea,
And even on the faem,70
Wi' five-an-fifty Scots lords' sons,
That lang'd to bee at hame.
They hadna sail'd upon the sea
A day but barely three,
Till loud and boistrous grew the wind,75
And stormy grew the sea.
"O where will I get a little wee boy
Will tak' my helm in hand,
Till I gae up to my tapmast,
And see for some dry land?"80