Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/462

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The ankers brak, and the topmast lap,

It was sic a deadly storm. And the waves cam owre the broken ship

Till a' her sides were torn.

'Go fetch a web o j the silken claith,

Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side,

And let nae the sea come in.'

They fetch'd a web o' the silken claith,

Another o' the twine, And they wapp'd them round that gude ship's side,

But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords

To wet 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 flattcr'd on the faem; And mony was the gude lord's son

That never mair cam hame.

O lang, lang may the ladies 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 gowd kames in their hair,

A-waiting for their ain dear loves' For them they'll see nae mair.

lap] sprang. flatter'd] tossed afloat. kames] combs

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