Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? O sweet content! Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? O punishment! Then he that patiently want's burden bears No burden bears, but is a king, a king! O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! Work apace, apace, apace, apace; Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! TROLL THE BOWL Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain, Saint Hugh be our good speed! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. Troll the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl, And here, kind mate, to thee! Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul, And down it merrily. Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down. Ho! well done, to let me come, Ring compass, gentle joy! Troll the bowl, the nut-brown bowl, And here, kind mate, to thee! Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul, And down it merrily. Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain, Saint Hugh be our good speed! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. SIR PATRICK SPENS ANONYMOUS The king sits in Dunfermline toun, Drinking the blude-red wine; 'Oh whare will I get a gude sailor, To sail this ship o' mine?' Then up and spake an eldern knight Sat at the king's right knee; 'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sail'd 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 strand. 'To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem; The king's daughter to Noroway, 'Tis 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 ee. 'O wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o' me, To send us out at this time o' the year, To sail upon the sea?' 'Be 't wind or weet, be't 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 Monenday morn, Wi' a' the speed they may; And 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 Scotisman spend a' our king's gowd, And a' our queenis fee.' 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye leears loud, Sae loud's I hear ye lee! 'For I brought as much o' the white monie As gane my men and me, And a half-fou o' the gude red gowd, Out owre the sea with me. 'Mak' ready, mak' ready, my merry men a', Our gude ship sails the morn.' 'O say na sae, my master dear, I fear a deadlie 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!'