Sir Patrick Spens Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDC EFDF DGAG HIHI JFJF KFLF MFHF NFHM OHHF MFMP NFMF QNLF NFDF RFMF SFTN DMMM MMMM UNTN VNMN VNMN ANMN MFNF MWAW MMAM MWAW NXAM| Border Minstrelsy | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| The king sits in Dunfermline town | B |
| Drinking the blude red wine o | C |
| O whare will I get a skeely skipper | D |
| To sail this new ship of mine o | C |
| - | |
| O up and spake an eldern knight | E |
| Sat at the king's right knee | F |
| Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor | D |
| That ever saild the sea | F |
| - | |
| Our king has written a braid letter | D |
| And seald it with his hand | G |
| And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens | A |
| Was walking on the strand | G |
| - | |
| To Noroway to Noroway | H |
| To Noroway oer the faem | I |
| The king's daughter of Noroway | H |
| 'Tis thou maun bring her hame | I |
| - | |
| The first word that Sir Patrick read | J |
| Sae loud loud laughed he | F |
| The neist word that Sir Patrick read | J |
| The tear blinded his ee | F |
| - | |
| O wha is this has done this deed | K |
| And tauld the king o me | F |
| To send us out at this time of the year | L |
| To sail upon the sea | F |
| - | |
| Be it wind be it weet be it hall be it sleet | M |
| Our ship must sail the faem | F |
| The king's daughter of Noroway | H |
| 'Tis we must fetch her hame | F |
| - | |
| They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn | N |
| Wi' a' the speed they may | F |
| They hae landed in Noroway | H |
| Upon a Wodensday | M |
| - | |
| They hadna been a week a week | O |
| In Noroway but twae | H |
| When that the lords o Noroway | H |
| Began aloud to say | F |
| - | |
| Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud | M |
| And a' our queenis fee | F |
| Ye lie ye lie ye liars loud | M |
| Fu' loud I hear ye lie | P |
| - | |
| For I brought as much white monie | N |
| As gane my men and me | F |
| And I brought a half fou' o' gude red goud | M |
| Out o'er the sea wi' me | F |
| - | |
| Make ready make ready my merry men a' | Q |
| Our gude ship sails the morn | N |
| Now ever alake my master dear | L |
| I fear a deadly storm | F |
| - | |
| I saw the new moon late yestreen | N |
| Wi' the auld moon in her arm | F |
| And if we gang to sea master | D |
| I fear we'll come to harm | F |
| - | |
| They hadna sail'd a league a league | R |
| A league but barely three | F |
| When the lift grew dark and the wind blew loud | M |
| And gurly grew the sea | F |
| - | |
| The ankers brak and the top masts lap | S |
| It was sic a deadly storm | F |
| And the waves cam o'er the broken ship | T |
| Till a' her sides were torn | N |
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| O where will I get a gude sailor | D |
| To take my helm in hand | M |
| Till I get up to the tall top mast | M |
| To see if I can spy land | M |
| - | |
| O here am I a sailor gude | M |
| To take the helm in hand | M |
| Till you go up to the tall top mast | M |
| But I fear you'll ne'er spy land | M |
| - | |
| He hadna gane a step a step | U |
| A step but barely ane | N |
| When a bout flew out of our goodly ship | T |
| And the salt sea it came in | N |
| - | |
| Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith | V |
| Another o' the twine | N |
| And wap them into our ship's side | M |
| And let na the sea come in | N |
| - | |
| They fetchd a web o the silken claith | V |
| Another o the twine | N |
| And they wapped them roun that gude ship's side | M |
| But still the sea came in | N |
| - | |
| O laith laith were our gude Scots lords | A |
| To weet their cork heel'd shoon | N |
| But lang or a the play was play'd | M |
| They wat their hats aboon | N |
| - | |
| And mony was the feather bed | M |
| That fluttered on the faem | F |
| And mony was the gude lord's son | N |
| That never mair cam hame | F |
| - | |
| The ladyes wrang their fingers white | M |
| The maidens tore their hair | W |
| A' for the sake of their true loves | A |
| For them they'll see na mair | W |
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| O lang lang may the ladyes sit | M |
| Wi' their fans into their hand | M |
| Before they see Sir Patrick Spens | A |
| Come sailing to the strand | M |
| - | |
| And lang lang may the maidens sit | M |
| Wi' their goud kaims in their hair | W |
| A' waiting for their ain dear loves | A |
| For them they'll see na mair | W |
| - | |
| O forty miles off Aberdeen | N |
| 'Tis fifty fathoms deep | X |
| And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens | A |
| Wi' the Scots lords at his feet | M |
Andrew Lang
(1)
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About Sir Patrick Spens
Sir Patrick Spens is a poem by Andrew Lang. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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