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1 remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky. It was a childish ignorance;
Bat now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
Every man aboard her." " How's my boy�my boy ?
What care I for the men, sailor?
I'm not their mother� How's my boy�my boy ?
Tell me of him, and no othei! How's my boy�my boy ?"
HOW'S MY BOY?
" Ho, sailor of the sea!
How's my boy, my boy ?" " What's your boy's name, good wife,
And in what ship sailed he ?"
"My boy John�
He that went to sea� What care I for the ship, sailor ?
My boy's my boy to me.
" You come back from sea,
And not know my John ? I might as well have asked some landsman
Yonder down in the town. There's not an ass in all the parish
But he knows my Johu.
" How's my boy�my boy ?
And unless you let me know, I'll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no, Brass buttons or no, sailor,
Anchor and crown or no! Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton�"
" Speak low, woman, speak low !" "And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy, John ? If I was loud as I am proud,
I'd sing him over the town! WThy should I speak low, sailor ?"
" That good ship went down !"
" How's my boy�my boy ?
What care I for the ship, sailor ?
I was never aboard her. Be she afloat, or be she aground, Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound,
Her owners can afford her! I say, how's my John ?" "" Every man on board went down,
SIE PATRICK SPENS.
The king sits in Dumferline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine: " Oh, where will I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this new ship o' mine ?"
Oh, up and spake an elderu knight
Sat at the king's right knee: " Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sailed the sea."
Our king has written a braid letter,
And sealed it wi' his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the sand.
" To Norroway, to Norroway,
To Norroway, o'er the faem; The king's daughter to Norroway,
'Tis thou maun bring her harne!"
The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud,loud laughed he ; The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his e'e.
" Oh, wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o' me, To send us out, at this time o' the year,
To sail upon the sea ?
" Be it wind or weet, be it hail or sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem; The king's daughter to Norroway,
'Tis we must bring her hame."
They hoisted their sails on Monenday morn
Wi' all the speed they may; They hae landed safe in Norroway
Upon a Wodensday.
They hadna been a week, a week, In Norroway but twae,