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SIR PATRICK SPENS
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 flatter'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 !
xxi 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.
Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,
'Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet !
flatter'd] tossed afloat. kames] combs.