The King sits in Dunfermline toun, Drinking the blude-red wine; "O whaur shall I get a skeely skipper, To sail this gude ship of mine?" Then up an' spake an eldern knight, Sat at the King's right knee; "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea." The King has written a braid letter, And seal'd it wi' 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 to Noroway, It's thou maun tak' her hame." The first line that Sir Patrick read, A loud laugh laughed he, The neist line that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his e'e. "O wha is this hae dune this deed, And tauld the King o' me, To send us out at this time o' the year To sail upon the sea? "Be it wind or weet, be it hail or sleet, Our ship maun sail the faem, The King's daughter to Noroway, 'Tis we maun tak' her hame." They hoisted their sails on Monday morn, Wi' a' the speed they may; And they hae landed in Noroway Upon the Wodensday. They hadna been a week, a week, In Noroway but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say-- "Ye Scotsmen spend a' our King's gowd, And a' our Queenis fee." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, Sae loud's I hear ye lie! "For I brouct as mickle white monie, As gane my men and me, And a half-fou o' the gude red gold, Out owre the sea wi' me. "Mak' ready, mak' 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 I fear, I fear, my master dear, That we sall come to harm!" They hadna sail'd 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 ropes they brak, and the top-masts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship, Till a' her sides were torn. "O whaur will I get a gude sailor Will tak' the helm in hand, Until I win to the tall top-mast, And see if I spy the land?" "It's here am I, a sailor gude, Will tak' the helm in hand, Till ye win to the tall top-mast, But I fear ye'll ne'er spy land." He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bolt flew out of the gude ship's side, And the saut sea it cam' in. "Gae, fetch a web of the silken claith, Anither o' the twine, And wap them into the gude ship's side, And let na the sea come in." They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Anither o' the twine, And they wapp'd them into that gude ship's side, But aye the sea cam' in. O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords To weet their cock-heeled shoon, But lang ere a' the play was o'er They wat their hats abune. O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To weet their milk-white hands, But lang ere a' the play was played They wat their gouden bands.