'Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet1,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis we must fetch her hame.'

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi' a' the speed they may;

They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.

They hadna been a week, a week,

In Noroway, but twae,

When that the lords o' Noroway
Began aloud to say,-

'Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,

And a' our queenis fee.'

'Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!

Fu' loud I hear ye lie.

'For I brought as much white monie,

2

As gane my men and me,

And I brought a half-fou3 o' gude red goud,
Out o'er the sea wi' me.

'Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
Our gude ship sails the morn.'
'Now, ever alake, 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.

A line adapted in Kinmont Willie, as the formulae of the Iliad recurs the eighth part of a peck.

in the Odyssey.

2 suffice.

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 sailor,
To take my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
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 top-mast;
But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.'

He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,

When a bout 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 na the sea come in.'

They fetched a web o' the silken claith,

Another of the twine,

And they wapped them round that gude ship's side, But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords

To weet their cork-heel'd shoon! But lang or a' the play was play'd, 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 ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,

A' for the sake of their true loves;
For them they'll see na mair.

O lang, lang, may the ladyes 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 goud kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they'll see na 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.

[Popular version of the story of the burning of the House of Towey, a hold of the Forbes's, by the Gordons, in 1571. There is one English version, named Captain Car]

It fell about the Martinmas,

When the wind blew shrill and cauld,

Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,

'We maun draw to a hauld.

'And whatna hauld sall we draw to,
My merry men and me?

We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair ladye.'

The lady stood on her castle wa',
Beheld baith dale and down;

There she was aware of a host of men
Came riding towards the town.

'O see ye not, my merry men a',
O see ye not what I see?
Methinks I see a host of men;
I marvel who they be.'

She ween'd it had been her lovely lord,
As he cam' riding hame;

It was the traitor, Edom o' Gordon,
Wha reck'd no sin nor shame.

She had na sooner buskit hersell,
And putten on her gown,
Till Edom o' Gordon an' his men
Were round about the town'.

They had nae sooner supper set,
Nae sooner said the grace,
But Edom o' Gordon an' his men
Were lighted about the place.

The lady ran up to her tower-head,
As fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could wi' him agree.

'Come doun to me, ye lady gay,
Come doun, come doun to me;
This night sall ye lig within mine arms,
To-morrow my bride sall be.'

'I winna come down, ye fause Gordon,
I winna come down to thee;

I winna forsake my ain dear lord,—
And he is na far frae me.'

Town is used in Scotland for any country house or farm-buildings,

'Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,
Gie owre your house to me;
Or sall burn yoursell therein,
But an your babies three.'

'I winna gie owre, ye fause Gordon,
To nae sic traitor as thee e;
And if ye burn my ain dear babes,
My lord sall mak' ye dree.

'Now 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 stood upon her castle wa',
And let twa bullets flee:

She miss'd that bluidy butcher's heart.

And only razed his knee.

'Set fire to the house!' quo' fause Gordon,

Wud wi' dule and ire:

'Faus ladye, ye sall rue that shot

As ye burn in the fire!'

"Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!

I paid ye weel your fee;

Why pu' ye out the grund-wa' stane,

Lets in the reek to me?

'And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!

1 paid ye weel your hire;

Why pu' ye out the grund-wa' stane,
To me lets in the fire?'

'Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,

Ye paid me weel my fee:

But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man,—-
Marn either do or dee.'