23 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.
24 O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
Wi their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand.
25 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.
26 O forty miles off Aberdeen
'T is fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi the Scots lords at his feet.
I
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell's MS., p. 550.
1 The king sits in Dunfermline town,
A-drinking at the wine;
Says, Where will I get a good skipper,
Will sail the saut seas fine?
2 Out it speaks an eldren knight
Amang the companie:
'Young Patrick Spens is the best skipper
That ever saild the sea.'
3 The king he wrote a braid letter,
And seald it wi his ring;
Says, Ye'll gie that to Patrick Spens,
See if ye can him find.
4 He sent this not wi an auld man,
Nor yet a simple boy,
But the best o nobles in his train
This letter did convoy.