Lingua   

Sir Patrick Spens

anonimo
Lingua: Scozzese




kingsits
The King sits in Dumferling toune
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O quhar will I get guid sailor
To sail this schip of mine?"

Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se."

The King has written a braid letter
An' signed it wi' his hand,
An' sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

The first line that Sir Patrick red
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red
The teir blinded his ee.

"O quha is this has done this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir
To sail upon the se?"

"Mak hast, mak hast, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:"
"O say na sae, my master deir,
For I fear a deadlie storme.

"Late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi' the auld moone in her arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master
That we will cum to harme."

O our Scots nobles were licht laith
To weet their cork-heil'd schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd
Their hats they swam aboone.

O lang, o lang may their ladies sit
Wi' their fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.

O lang, o lang may the ladies stand
Wi' their goud kems in their hair,
Waiting for their ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.

Have owre, have owre to Aberdour
It's fiftie fadom deip,
An' thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence
Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.

spensdrown



Pagina principale CCG

Segnalate eventuali errori nei testi o nei commenti a antiwarsongs@gmail.com




hosted by inventati.org