'Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
Anither o' the twine,
And wap them into our gude ship's side,
And letna the sea come in.'
They fetch'd a wab o' the silken claith,
Anither o' the twine,
And they wapp'd them into the gude ship's side,
But aye the sea cam' in.
O laith, laith were our Scots lords' sons
To weet their coal-black shoon,
But lang ere a' the play was play'd,
They wat their hats abune.
And mony was the feather-bed
That fluttered on the faem,
And mony was the gude lord's son
That never mair cam' hame.
O lang, lang may the ladies 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' the gowd kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves,
For them they'll see nae mair.
Half owre, half owre to Aberdour
'Tis fifty fathom deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GREEN
PART I