From Traditional Ballad Airs, Volume 1, by William Christie (Edinburgh: Edmonston & Douglas, 1876), page 224:

[A tune is also given.]

This Air, unique in its tonality, ending as it does on the note below the minor key-note, was arranged from the way it was sung by the Editor's maternal grandfather, and from another set sung by a native of Buchan. The Ballad is given as sung by the Editor's grandfather to the air.


I WILL PUT MY SHIP IN ORDER.

"Oh, I will put my ship in order,
And I will set her to the sea;
And I will sail to yonder harbour,
To see if my love will marry me."
He sailed eastward, he sailed westward,
He sailed far, far by sea and land;
By France and Flanders, Spain and Dover,
He sail'd the world all round and round;

Till he came to his love's sweet bower,
It was to hear what she would say,—
"Awake, awake, ye lovely sleeper,
The sun is spreading the break of day."
"Oh, who is this at my bower window,
That speaks so lovingly to me?"
"It is your own true constant lover,
That would now have some words with thee.

"Oh, ye will now go to your father,
And see if he'll let you my bride be;
If he denies you, come and tell me,—
'Twill be the last time I'll visit thee."
"My father is in his chamber sleeping,
Now taking to him his natural rest,
And at his hand there lies a letter,
That speaketh much to thy dispraise."

"To my dispraise, love!" "To thy dispraise, love!"
"To my dispraise! how can that be?
I never griev'd you, nor once deceived you,
I fear, my love, you're forsaking me.
But you will now go to your stepmother,
And see if she'll let you my bride be;
If she denies you, come and tell me,—
'Twill be the last time I'll visit thee."

"My mother is in her bower dressing,
And combing down her yellow hair;
Begone, young man, you may court another,
And whisper softly in her ear."
Then hooly, hooly, raise up his lover,
And quickly put her clothing on;
But ere she got the door unlocked,
Her true lover now was gone.

"Oh, are ye gone, love? are ye gone, love?
Oh, are ye gone, and now left me?
I never griev'd you, nor yet deceiv'd you,
But now, I fear, you are slighting me."
"The fish shall fly, love, the sea shall dry, love,
The rocks shall all melt wi' the sun;
The blackbird shall give over singing,
Before that I return again."

"Oh, are you gone, love? are you gone, love?
Oh, are you gone, and left me now?
It was not me, it was my stepmother,
That spoke to you from her bower window."
He turned him right and round so quickly,
Says, "Come with me, my lovely one,
And we'll be wed, my own sweet lover,
And let them talk when we are gone."