Sir Patrick Spens 歌词

歌曲	Sir Patrick Spens
歌手	Martin Carthy
歌手	Dave Swarbrick
专辑	Essential
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Traditional
	Oh the king sits in Dunfermline town
	A-drinking the blood-red wine,
	Says, "Where will I get me a brave young skipper
	Sail this ship of mine?"
	And up and spoke an old, old man,
	Who sat at the king's right knee.
	He says, "Patrick Spens is the very best sailor
	Who ever did sail on the sea."
	So the king he has written him a long, long letter
	Sealed it with his hand,
	And he sent it along to Patrick Spens
	Who was walking down on the sand.
	And the very first line that Patrick read
	So loud, so loud laughed he,
	And the very next line that Patrick read
	Down he fell to his knee.
	"Oh, who is this, who has done this deed
	Telling the king on me,
	For to send us out this time of the year
	To sail on the salt, salt sea?"
	"To Norway, to far Norway,
	To Norway over the foam.
	It is the king's daughter of far Norway
	And we must bring her home."
	Now they set sail with all good speed
	On a Monday in the morn,
	And they have arrived far over the sea
	On a Wednesday in the eve.
	And they'd not been in far Norway
	A week but barely three,
	When all those lords of far Norway
	Began out aloud for to say:
	"Oh, you Scots foreigners spend our king's gold,
	Swallow up our money."
	"Oh, weary weary the tongue that lies,
	See how it lies on thee."
	"Make ready, ready my good men all,
	The little ship sails in the morn.
	Be it wind, be it wet, be it hail, be it sleet,
	Be it fair or deadly storm."
	But up and spoke our own weatherman,
	"I fear we'll all be drowned.
	For I saw the new moon late last night,
	The old moon in her arm."
	And they'd not sailed a league and a league,
	A league but barely three
	When through and through the little ship's side
	[They?] spied the green-walled sea.
	"Oh, where will I get me a brave young boy,
	Take my helm in hand,
	While I climb up to the tall topmast,
	See can I spy land."
	And he'd not gone a step and a step,
	A step but barely one,
	When the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came a-driving to their shin.
	"Oh, fetch me a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And lay them around our little ship's side
	Let not the sea come in."
	And they got a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And they laid them around the little ship's side,
	Still the sea come in.
	Oh, the anchor snapped, the topmast cracked,
	It was a deadly storm.
	And the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came a-driving to their chin.
	And there came a gale from the north-north-east,
	So loud, so loud it weep,
	It cried, "Patrick Spens and all of his men
	Are drowning in the deep."
	And loath, loath were the good Scots lords
	To wet their shining shoen,
	But long and ere this day was done
	Their hats were soaking through.
	And many were the fine feather bed
	Flattering over the foam,
	And many were the good lords' sons
	Never, never more come home.
	And long, long will the ladies sit,
	Their gold combs in their hand,
	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
	Come a-sailing to dry land.
	Oh, it's east by north from Aberdour,
	It's fifty fathom deep.
	And it's there it lies Patrick Spens,
	The Scots lords at his feet.

	zuo ci : Traditional
	Oh the king sits in Dunfermline town
	Adrinking the bloodred wine,
	Says, " Where will I get me a brave young skipper
	Sail this ship of mine?"
	And up and spoke an old, old man,
	Who sat at the king' s right knee.
	He says, " Patrick Spens is the very best sailor
	Who ever did sail on the sea."
	So the king he has written him a long, long letter
	Sealed it with his hand,
	And he sent it along to Patrick Spens
	Who was walking down on the sand.
	And the very first line that Patrick read
	So loud, so loud laughed he,
	And the very next line that Patrick read
	Down he fell to his knee.
	" Oh, who is this, who has done this deed
	Telling the king on me,
	For to send us out this time of the year
	To sail on the salt, salt sea?"
	" To Norway, to far Norway,
	To Norway over the foam.
	It is the king' s daughter of far Norway
	And we must bring her home."
	Now they set sail with all good speed
	On a Monday in the morn,
	And they have arrived far over the sea
	On a Wednesday in the eve.
	And they' d not been in far Norway
	A week but barely three,
	When all those lords of far Norway
	Began out aloud for to say:
	" Oh, you Scots foreigners spend our king' s gold,
	Swallow up our money."
	" Oh, weary weary the tongue that lies,
	See how it lies on thee."
	" Make ready, ready my good men all,
	The little ship sails in the morn.
	Be it wind, be it wet, be it hail, be it sleet,
	Be it fair or deadly storm."
	But up and spoke our own weatherman,
	" I fear we' ll all be drowned.
	For I saw the new moon late last night,
	The old moon in her arm."
	And they' d not sailed a league and a league,
	A league but barely three
	When through and through the little ship' s side
	They? spied the greenwalled sea.
	" Oh, where will I get me a brave young boy,
	Take my helm in hand,
	While I climb up to the tall topmast,
	See can I spy land."
	And he' d not gone a step and a step,
	A step but barely one,
	When the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came adriving to their shin.
	" Oh, fetch me a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And lay them around our little ship' s side
	Let not the sea come in."
	And they got a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And they laid them around the little ship' s side,
	Still the sea come in.
	Oh, the anchor snapped, the topmast cracked,
	It was a deadly storm.
	And the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came adriving to their chin.
	And there came a gale from the northnortheast,
	So loud, so loud it weep,
	It cried, " Patrick Spens and all of his men
	Are drowning in the deep."
	And loath, loath were the good Scots lords
	To wet their shining shoen,
	But long and ere this day was done
	Their hats were soaking through.
	And many were the fine feather bed
	Flattering over the foam,
	And many were the good lords' sons
	Never, never more come home.
	And long, long will the ladies sit,
	Their gold combs in their hand,
	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
	Come asailing to dry land.
	Oh, it' s east by north from Aberdour,
	It' s fifty fathom deep.
	And it' s there it lies Patrick Spens,
	The Scots lords at his feet.

	zuò cí : Traditional
	Oh the king sits in Dunfermline town
	Adrinking the bloodred wine,
	Says, " Where will I get me a brave young skipper
	Sail this ship of mine?"
	And up and spoke an old, old man,
	Who sat at the king' s right knee.
	He says, " Patrick Spens is the very best sailor
	Who ever did sail on the sea."
	So the king he has written him a long, long letter
	Sealed it with his hand,
	And he sent it along to Patrick Spens
	Who was walking down on the sand.
	And the very first line that Patrick read
	So loud, so loud laughed he,
	And the very next line that Patrick read
	Down he fell to his knee.
	" Oh, who is this, who has done this deed
	Telling the king on me,
	For to send us out this time of the year
	To sail on the salt, salt sea?"
	" To Norway, to far Norway,
	To Norway over the foam.
	It is the king' s daughter of far Norway
	And we must bring her home."
	Now they set sail with all good speed
	On a Monday in the morn,
	And they have arrived far over the sea
	On a Wednesday in the eve.
	And they' d not been in far Norway
	A week but barely three,
	When all those lords of far Norway
	Began out aloud for to say:
	" Oh, you Scots foreigners spend our king' s gold,
	Swallow up our money."
	" Oh, weary weary the tongue that lies,
	See how it lies on thee."
	" Make ready, ready my good men all,
	The little ship sails in the morn.
	Be it wind, be it wet, be it hail, be it sleet,
	Be it fair or deadly storm."
	But up and spoke our own weatherman,
	" I fear we' ll all be drowned.
	For I saw the new moon late last night,
	The old moon in her arm."
	And they' d not sailed a league and a league,
	A league but barely three
	When through and through the little ship' s side
	They? spied the greenwalled sea.
	" Oh, where will I get me a brave young boy,
	Take my helm in hand,
	While I climb up to the tall topmast,
	See can I spy land."
	And he' d not gone a step and a step,
	A step but barely one,
	When the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came adriving to their shin.
	" Oh, fetch me a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And lay them around our little ship' s side
	Let not the sea come in."
	And they got a web of the silken cloth,
	Another web of the twine,
	And they laid them around the little ship' s side,
	Still the sea come in.
	Oh, the anchor snapped, the topmast cracked,
	It was a deadly storm.
	And the whirling winds and the ugly jaws
	Came adriving to their chin.
	And there came a gale from the northnortheast,
	So loud, so loud it weep,
	It cried, " Patrick Spens and all of his men
	Are drowning in the deep."
	And loath, loath were the good Scots lords
	To wet their shining shoen,
	But long and ere this day was done
	Their hats were soaking through.
	And many were the fine feather bed
	Flattering over the foam,
	And many were the good lords' sons
	Never, never more come home.
	And long, long will the ladies sit,
	Their gold combs in their hand,
	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
	Come asailing to dry land.
	Oh, it' s east by north from Aberdour,
	It' s fifty fathom deep.
	And it' s there it lies Patrick Spens,
	The Scots lords at his feet.

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