The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #151603 Message #3540246
Posted By: Roberto
22-Jul-13 - 09:32 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Sir Patrick Spens (from Peter Bellamy)
Subject: Lyr Req: Peter Bellamy's Sir Patrick Spens
From English Maritime Suite, by Peter Bellamy. This is what I can get. Please, someone to check and correct. Thank you.
The King sits in Dunfermline town A-drinking at the wine And he has called for the finest skipper In Fife or all the land
Then up and spoke an old man Who sat by the King's right knee: He said: Patrick Spens is the finest sailor That ever sailed on the sea
Now the King he wrote a broad letter And signed it with his hand He sent it to young Sir Patrick Spens Who was walking on Leith strand
"To Norrowa, to Norrowa To Norrowa o'er the foam The King's daughter in Norrowa 'Tis you must bring her home
Now, they had not been in Norrowa A week but barely three When all the lords in Norrowa They up and they spoke so free
They said: "These outland Scots they drink our King's gold They swallow our Queen's fee Oh woe upon the tongue that told Such a dreadful lie
And how can this be?" cried Sir Patrick Spens, So I pray now, tell it unto me When the bows of our ship they are wrought in gold And we've twelve chests of white money
But take heed, take heed, my good men all And mind you be forewarned For cometh wind or cometh hail Our good ship sails in the morn
But up there spoke the weatherman: I fear we all be drowned For I saw the new moon late yest'reen With the old moon laying in her arms
Now, they had not sailed a league, a league A league but barely three When the skies they run black and the seas run high And the ship she was now a wreck
Then it's where can I find some bonny boy To take the steer in hand While I climb up to the high topmast To see if I can spy land
But he hadn't take a steep, a step A step but barely one When bows of that good ship did crack And the salt sea did rush in
And loth, oh loth were those proud Scots lords For to wet their cork-heeled shoes But ere the race was halfway run They'd wet their hats also
Now long and long may the ladies sit With their fans all in their hands Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to Leith strand
Half ower, half ower to Aberdour Where the seas they run so deep 'Tis there does lie young Sir Patrick Spens With the Scots lords at his feet