"Be not afraid, tanner," said our king; "I tell thee, so mote I thee, Lo here I make thee the best esquire That is in the north countrie. "For Plumpton Park I will give thee, With tenements fair beside: 'Tis worth three hundred marks by the year, To maintain thy good cow-hide."-- "Gram-ercy, my liege," the tanner replied "For the favour thou hast me shown; If ever thou comest to merry Tam-worth, Neat's leather shall clout thy shoon." SIR PATRICK SPENS. The king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine: "O whare will I get a skeely skipper To sail this new ship of mine?" Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's right knee: "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sail-or That ever sailed the sea." Our king has written a braid letter, And sealed it with his hand; And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the sand. "To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis thou maun bring her hame." The first word that Sir Patrick read, A loud laugh laughed he: The neist word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee. "O wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o' me; To send us out this time o' the year, To sail upon the sea? "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem, The king's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis we must fetch her hame." They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, Wi' a' the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway, Upon a Wodensday. They hadna been a week, a week, In Noroway, but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say,-- "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, And a' our queenis fee."-- "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, Fu' loud I hear ye lie; "For I brought as much white monie As gane my men and me, And I brought a half-fou of gude red goud, Out o'er the sea wi' me. "Make ready, make ready, my merry men a', Our gude ship sails the morn!"-- "Now, ever alack, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm! "I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, Till a' her sides were torn. "O where will I get a gude sail-or To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast To see if I can spy land?"--