The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #12481   Message #100060
Posted By:
28-Jul-99 - 04:46 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Sir Patrick Spens (etc., from Nic Jones)
Subject: Lyr Add: SIR PATRICK SPENS (from Nic Jones)
Not sure how exact this is as I no longer have the LP available, but this is the version I learnt from it at the time (possibly with minor changes that've crept in over the nearly 30 years that have passed since then...)


The king he sits in Dunfermline town
Drinking of the blood red wine
Oh where can I find me a good mariner
To sail these seven ships of mine
Then up there spoke a fine young man
Sitting at the king's right knee
Sir Patrick Spens is the best mariner
That ever sailed on the sea

So the king he has written a broad letter
And he signed it with his own hand
And he's sent it up to Sir Patrick Spens
A walking all on the strand
And the very first line that Patrick he read
A little laugh then gave he
And the very next line that Patrick he read
The salt tears filled his eye

Oh who is he that's done this deed
And told the king of me
For never was I a good mariner
And never do intend to be
Late yestereen I saw the new moon
With the old moon in her arms
And I fear I fear a deadly storm
Our ship'n she will come to harm

But rise up rise up my merry men all
Our little ship she sails in the dawn
Whether it's windy or whether it's wet
Or whether there's a deadly storm
And they hadn't been sailing but a league nor more
A league but barely nine
When wind and wet and sleet and snow
Come a blowing up behind

Oh where can I find me a little cabin boy
To take the helm in hand
While I climb up to the top of the mast
To see if I can't spy land
Come down come down Sir Patrick Spens
For we fear that we all must die
For in and out of the good ship's hull
The wind and the ocean fly

And the very first step that Patrick he took
The water it came to his knee
And the very next step that Patrick he took
They drownded they were in the sea
And many was the fine feather bed
That floated on the foam
And many many was the little lords son
That never never more came home

Oh long long may their ladies sit
With their fans all in their hands
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come walking all on the strand
For it's fifty miles from Aberdeen shore
It's fifty fathoms deep
And there does lie Sir Patrick Spens
With the little lords at his feet