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 58 BALLADS

The neist word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee.

'O wha is this has done this deed,

And tauld the King of me, To send us out at this time o' year

To sail upon the sea?

Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,

Our ship must sail the faem; The King's daughter to Noroway,

'Tis we must bring her name. '

They hoysed their sails on Monday 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 mickle white monie

As gane my men and me, And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud

Out-o'er the sea wi' me.

Mak' ready, mak' ready, my merry men a' ! Our gude ship sails the morn.'

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