A Bundle of Ballads [38]
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?"--
"O here am I, a sailor gude, To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in.
"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, And let nae the sea come in."
They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And they wapped them round that gude ship's side, But still the sea cam in.
O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork-heeled shoon! But lang or a' the play was played They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather bed That flattered on the faem; And mony was the gude lord's son That never mair cam hame.
The ladies wrang their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A' for the sake of their true loves; For them they'll see nae mair.
O lang, lang, may the ladies sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their gold combs in their hair, Awaiting for their ain dear loves! For them they'll see nae mair.
O forty miles off Aberdeen 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
EDOM O' GORDON.
It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, "We maun draw till a hauld.
"And what a hauld sall we draw till, My merry men and me? We wull gae to the house o' the Rode, To see that fair lad-ie."
The ladie stude on her castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down: There she was ware of a host of men Come riding towards the toun.
"O see ye nat, my merry men a'? O see ye nat what I see? Methinks I see a host of men: I marvel wha they be!"
She weened it had been her luvely lord, As he came riding hame; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Wha recked nae sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hersel, And putten on her goun, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper set, Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were light about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head, Sae fast as she could hie, To see if by her fair speech-es She could wi' him agree.
But whan he see this lady saif, And her gat-es all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his look was all aghast.
"Come down to me, ye lady gay, Come down, come down to me! This night sall ye lig within mine arms To-morrow my bride sall be."--
"I winna come down, ye false Gord-on, I winna come down to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me."--
"Give o'er your house, ye lady fair, Give o'er your house to me, Or I sall bren yoursel therein, Bot and your babies three."--
"I winna give o'er, ye false Gord-on To nae sic traitor as ye; And if ye bren my ain dear babes, My lord sall make you dree.
"But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, And charge ye weel my gun: For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher My babes we been undone."
She stude upon her castle wa', And let twa bullets flee: She missed that bluidy butcher's heart And only rased his knee.
"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?"--
"O here am I, a sailor gude, To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in.
"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, And let nae the sea come in."
They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And they wapped them round that gude ship's side, But still the sea cam in.
O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork-heeled shoon! But lang or a' the play was played They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather bed That flattered on the faem; And mony was the gude lord's son That never mair cam hame.
The ladies wrang their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A' for the sake of their true loves; For them they'll see nae mair.
O lang, lang, may the ladies sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their gold combs in their hair, Awaiting for their ain dear loves! For them they'll see nae mair.
O forty miles off Aberdeen 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
EDOM O' GORDON.
It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, "We maun draw till a hauld.
"And what a hauld sall we draw till, My merry men and me? We wull gae to the house o' the Rode, To see that fair lad-ie."
The ladie stude on her castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down: There she was ware of a host of men Come riding towards the toun.
"O see ye nat, my merry men a'? O see ye nat what I see? Methinks I see a host of men: I marvel wha they be!"
She weened it had been her luvely lord, As he came riding hame; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Wha recked nae sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hersel, And putten on her goun, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper set, Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were light about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head, Sae fast as she could hie, To see if by her fair speech-es She could wi' him agree.
But whan he see this lady saif, And her gat-es all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his look was all aghast.
"Come down to me, ye lady gay, Come down, come down to me! This night sall ye lig within mine arms To-morrow my bride sall be."--
"I winna come down, ye false Gord-on, I winna come down to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me."--
"Give o'er your house, ye lady fair, Give o'er your house to me, Or I sall bren yoursel therein, Bot and your babies three."--
"I winna give o'er, ye false Gord-on To nae sic traitor as ye; And if ye bren my ain dear babes, My lord sall make you dree.
"But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, And charge ye weel my gun: For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher My babes we been undone."
She stude upon her castle wa', And let twa bullets flee: She missed that bluidy butcher's heart And only rased his knee.