The King sat in Dunfermline town drinking his blood red wine
Oh where can I find a skeely skipper to sail this ship of mine
Up then spoke an eldern knight that sat at his right knee
Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor that ever sailed the sea

The King he wrote a braid letter and he sealed it with his hand
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens who was walking on the strand
To Noroway to Noroway to Noroway over the foam
To the King’s daughter in Noroway you’ve gotta bring her home

The first line that Sir Patrick read loud loud laughed he
And the next line that Sir Patrick read a tear blinded his eye
Oh who is it that’s done this deed and told the King of me
To send us out at this time of the year to sail on the salty sea

Be it wind be it wet be it hail be it sleet our ship must sail on the morn
To the King’s daughter in Noroway we’ve gotta bring her home
They hoysed their sails on a Monday morn with all the speed they may
And landed safe in Noroway upon a Wednesday

They hadna been a week a week a week but barely three
When all the lords of Noroway began aloud to say
Ye Scotsmen spend all our King’s gold and all of our Queen’s fee
Ye lie ye lie ye liars loud full loud I hear ye lie

For I brought a bag of the white money enough for my men and me
And I brought a bag of the good red gold from over the sea
Make ready make ready my merry men all our good ship sails on the morn
Now ever alack my master dear I fear a deadly storm

For I saw the new moon late yestreen with the old moon in her arms
And if we put to sea master I fear we’ll come to harm
And they hadna gone a league a league a league but barely three
When the wind got up and the sky grew dark and stormy blew the sea

The anchors broke and the top mast split it was such a deadly storm
And the waves came over the broken ship till all her sides were torn
Oh where can I find a good sailor that will take this helm in hand
Till I climb up to the tall top mast to see if I can spy the land

Oh here am I a good sailor that’ll take the helm in hand
Till you climb up to the high top mast but I fear you’ll not spy the land
He hadna gone a step a step a step but barely three
When a bolt flew out of the goodly ship in came the sea

Go fetch me a web of the silken cloth and another of the twine
And wrap them round our goodly ship don’t let the sea come in
They fetched a web of the silken cloth and another of the twine
And wrapped them round the good ship’s side but still the sea came in

Oh loath loath were the good Scots Lords to wet their cork heeled shoes
But long before the day was o’er they’d wet both hats and trews
Many were the feathered beds that floated on the foam
And many were the good Scots Lords that never more came home

And long may the ladies sit with their gold combs in their hand
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens come walking on the strand
It’s forty miles off Aberdeen and forty fathoms deep
There lies the good Sir Patrick Spens with the Scots Lords at his feet.