24 O lang, lang will his lady sit,
Wi the black shoon on her feet,
Afore she see Sir Patrick Spens
Come drivin up the street.
K
Communicated by Mr Murison, as taken down from recitation in Old Deer by Mrs Murison.
* * * * *
1 It's when he read the letter ower
A licht lauch then leuch he;
But lang ere he wan the end o it
The saut tear filled his ee.
2 'O woe be to the man,' he says,
'That's tauld the king o me;
Altho he be my ain brither,
Some ill death mat he dee!
3 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'For be it weet, or be it win,
My bonnie ship sails the morn.'
* * * * *
4 'For late the streen I saw the new meen,
Bit an the auld ane tee,
An it fears me sair, my good maister,
For a tempest in the sea.'