9 They had not saild upon the sea
A league but merely nine,
When wind and weit and snaw and sleit
Came blawing them behind.
10 'Then where will I get a pretty boy
Will take my steer in hand,
Till I go up to my tap-mast,
And see gif I see dry land?'
11 'Here am I, a pretty boy
That'l take your steir in hand,
Till you go up to your tap-mast,
And see an you see the land.'
12 Laith, laith were our Scottish lords
To weit their coal-black shoon;
But yet ere a' the play was playd,
They wat their hats aboon.
13 Laith, laith war our Scottish lords
To weit their coal-black hair;
But yet ere a' the play was playd,
They wat it every hair.
14 The water at St Johnston's wall
Was fifty fathom deep,
And there ly a' our Scottish lords,
Sir Patrick at their feet.
15 Lang, lang may our ladies wait
Wi the tear blinding their ee,
Afore they see Sir Patrick's ships
Come sailing oer the sea.
16 Lang, lang may our ladies wait,
Wi their babies in their hands,
Afore they see Sir Patrick Spence
Come sailing to Leith Sands.