paroles de chanson Sir Patrick Spens - June Tabor
Aye,
sits
a
king
in
Dunfermline
Drinking
the
blood-red
wine
"Where
can
I
get
me
a
good
skipper
To
sail
this
new
ship
of
mine?"
And
up
and
spoke
a
noble
lord
Who
sat
at
the
king′s
right
hand
"It's
you
must
get
Sir
Patrick
Spens
He′s
walking
out
on
the
strand"
And
the
king
has
written
a
broad
letter
And
sealed
it
with
his
hand
And
sent
it
to
Sir
Patrick
Spens
As
he
walked
out
on
the
strand
And
the
first
line
that
Sir
Patrick
read
Loud,
loud
laughed
he
The
next
line
that
Sir
Patrick
read
Oh,
the
tear
blinded
his
e'e
"Oh,
who
is
this,
has
done
this
deed
And
told
the
king
on
me
To
send
us
out
this
time
of
the
year
To
sail
the
Wintry
sea?"
"For
I
saw
the
old
moon
late
last
night
With
the
new
moon
in
her
arms
Oh,
master
dear,
if
you
set
to
sea
I
fear
you'll
come
to
harm"
"Be
it
wind,
be
it
wet,
be
it
snow
or
sleet
Our
good
ship
must
sail
the
morn
To
gang
awa′
to
Norowa
To
take
the
king′s
bride
home
We
hoisted
sail
on
a
Monday
morn
With
all
the
speed
we
made
When
we
landed
in
to
Norowa
Afore
the
Wednesday
And
we
had
not
been
in
Norowa
A
week
but
barely
twa
When
that
the
lords
of
Norowa
Out
loud
began
to
say
"You
Scotsmen
spend
all
our
queen's
gold
And
swallow
our
queen′s
fee!"
"You
lie,
you
lie,
you
lie
as
loud
So
loud,
I
hear
you
lie!"
"For
I
have
brought
as
much
money
As
demon
of
enemy
And
I
have
brought
as
much
red
gold
Out
o'er
the
sea
with
me
"Make
ready,
make
ready
my
merry
men
all
Out
ship
must
sail
in
the
morn"
"You
must
do
as
you
like,
my
master,
dear
But
I
fear
a
deadly
storm"
And
we
had
not
sailed
a
league,
a
league
A
league,
but
barely
three
When
the
sky
grew
dark
and
the
wind
blew
high
And
loud,
loud
roared
the
sea
"Oh,
where
can
I
get
me
a
bonnie
boy
Who′ll
take
my
helm
in
hand?
While
I
climb
to
the
topmast
rail
To
see
if
I
can
find
land"
"Oh,
here
am
I,
a
bonnie
boy
Who'll
take
your
helm
in
hand
While
you
climb
to
the
topmast
rail
But
I
fear
you
will
never
find
land"
But
he
had
not
climbed
a
rung,
a
rung
A
rung,
but
barely
three
When
a
voice
came
calling
up
to
him
"Come
down
and
speak
with
me"
"There′s
a
hole,
a
hole
in
our
ship's
side
And
through
it
pours
the
sea"
"Oh,
fetch
me
a
web
of
the
silken
cloth
And
another
of
the
twine
And
bind
it
round
our
good
ship's
side
Let
not
the
water
in"
So
they
fetched
him
a
bolt
of
the
silken
cloth
And
another
of
the
twine
And
they
bound
it
round
our
good
ship′s
side
But
still
the
sea
poured
And
loath,
loath
were
those
good
Scots
lords
To
wet
their
cork-heeled
shoen
But
long
e′er
all
the
play
was
played
Their
hats
were
under
the
foam
And
many
were
the
feather
beds
That
floated
on
from
the
foam
And
many
were
the
good
Scots
lords
That
never
more
came
home
Long,
long
may
the
ladies
sit
Their
fans
into
their
hand
Awaiting
for
Sir
Patrick
Spens
Come
sailing
o'er
to
Leith
strand
Long,
long
may
the
ladies
sit
Their
gold
combs
in
their
hand
Awaiting
for
their
husbands,
dear
But
home
they′ll
come
no
more
And
three
miles
off
Aberdeen
Go
fifty
fathoms
deep
And
there
you'll
find
Sir
Patrick
Spens
With
the
Scots
lords
at
his
feet
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