Sir Patrick Spence- Tucker (MD) 1937 Powell
[From Southern Folk-Lore Quarterly I, 1937. This is the first issue and I have this issue- that was when my Grandfather was President of the Society! Also reprinted in Maryland Folklore and Folklife - Page 52 by George Gibson Carey - 1970. Notes by Powell follow.
Sarah Frances Virginia Earle was born in 1852 in Maryland and married George Edward Marshall (1843–1925) in 1870. Sarah learned this from her paternal grandmother Mrs. Samuel Ringgold. The most likely is Samuel who was born on January 15 1770, in Chestertown, Kent, Maryland. His wife Maria was born on February 4, 1776, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Their house was built in the late 1700s. It's possible I skipped a generation -- at any rate the ballad dates back to at least 1860s.
Powell's notes follow.
R. Matteson 2014]
I shall attempt no critical comment on Mr. Tucker's "Sir Patrick Spens." The tune is simple and expressive and eminently fitted for narrative singing, although not so dramatic as that given by Joseph Ritson.[1] The words, to me at least, seem superior to those in Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy[2] and no whit inferior to those in Percy's Reliques[3]. But I freely admit my incompetence to utter an authoritative judgment even if I could attain an attitude of impartiality in the present instance. Let the ballad speak for itself.
SIR PATRICK SPENS- Taken down at Norfolk, Virginia, June 4, 1936, from the singing of George Holbert Tucker, who had it about 1915-6, from his maternal grandmother, Mrs. George Edward Marshall (born Sarah Frances Virginia Earle) of Queen Anne's County, Maryland. Mrs. Marshall learned the ballad from her paternal grandmother. Mrs. Col. Samuel Ringgold, also of Queen Anne's county, with whom she lived as a child. They were both born at Kent Island in Queen Anne's county, on the eastern shore of Maryland.
The king sat in Dumfermline town
Drinking the blood-red wine,
"Oh, where'll I get a skeely skipper
To sail this ship of mine?"
Then up ancl spoke an eldern knight
Sat at the king's right knee,
"Sir Patrick Spens's the best skipper
That ever did sail the sea."
The king has Penned a braid letter
And sealed it with his hand;
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.
"For yestereen I saw the new moon
With the old moon in her arms;
And I am faint and sore afraid
That our ship will come to harm."
They had not sailed a league, a league-
A league but scarcely three,
When the north grew black and the winds blew wild,
And the waves champed angrily.
The anchors broke, the topmast fell
It was such a deadly storm;
And then the waves caffle over the ship
Till all her sides were torn.
"Go fetch me a bolt of the silken cloth
And another of flaxen twine,
And wrap them into my good ship's sides
To let not the sea come in."
They fetched up a bolt of silken cloth,
And another of flaxen twine,
And wrapped them into the good ship's sides
But still the sea came in.
"To Noraway, Sir patrick,
To Noraway o'er the foam
Queen Margaret's lass of Norwaway
'Tis thou must bring her home."
The first word that Sir Patrick read
He laugh-ed loud and high;
The next word that Sir Patrick read
A tear blinded his eye.
"Oh, who has done this cruel thing,
To tell the king of me,
To send me out this time o' the year
To sail upon the sea ?
"But be it wind, or be it sleet
My ship must sail the foam,
To seek the King of Noraway
And bring his daughter home.
"So hoist the sails, my bonny boys all,
With all the speed ye may,
For we must clear the channel bar
Before the cock crows day."
They hoist the sails, they cleared the bar
For ice-bound Noraway;
But had not anchored scare a week
Before the lords did say:
"Ye Scotchmen, spend our good king's gold,
And all our white money."
"Ye lie, ye lie," Sir Patrick cried,
"Ye bawdy[4] dogs, ye lie."
"Make ready, make ready, my good men all,
For I will sail ere morn."
"O prythee, sire," his pretty page cried,
"I fear a sudden storm."
"For yestereen I saw the new moon
With the old moon in her arms;
And I am faint and sore afraid
That our ship will come to harm."
They had not sailed a league, a league--
A league but scarcely three,
When the north grew black and the winds blew wild,
And the waves champed angrily.
The anchors broke, the topmast fell
It was such a deadly storm;
And then the waves came over the ship
Till all her sides were torn.
"Go fetch me a bolt of the silken cloth
And another of flaxen twine,
And wrap them into my good ship's sides
To let not the sea come in."
They fetched up a bolt of silken cloth,
And another of flaxen twine,
And wrapped them into the good ship's sides
But still the sea came in.
Oh, very loath were the good Scotch lords
To wet their cork heeled shoon,
But long ere the doleful day was done
They wet their hats aboon.
Oh, long, long may the ladies sit
With their feathers in their hands;
Before,they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand.
And long, long may the ladies sit
With their gold combs in their hair,
A-waiting for their own true loves
For them they'll see no more.
For forty miles off Aberdeen,
It's fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies good Sir Patrick Spens
With the Scotch lords at his feet.
1. Ritson, A Collection of Scottish Songs, Edinburgh, 1791, II, 349.
2. Scott, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833 ed'. p. 295.
3 Percy, Reliques of Ancient Poetry, London, 1765, I, 71.
4. When I asked the meaning of the word bawdy, said Mr. Tucker, "grandmother primly replied 'Uncouth'."