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The reason why we all like to be Sir Patrick," he explained, turning to me, "is that the lords o' Noroway say to him 'Ye Scottishmen spend a' our King's gowd, And a' our Queenis fee'; and then he answers, "Ye lee! ye lee! ye leers loud, Fu' loudly do ye lee!" and a lot of splendid things like that. Well, I'll be the king," and accordingly he began:
I have been a Noroway dog, a shipbuilder, and a gallant sailorman; I have been a gurly sea and a towering gale; I have crawled from beneath broken anchors, topsails, and mizzenmasts to a strand where I have been a suffering lady plying a gowd kaim.
Upon this low shore line, which lies blinking in the midday sun, the waves of history have beaten for two centuries and a half, and romance has had time to grow there. Out of any of these coves might have sailed Sir Patrick Spens "to Noroway, to Noroway," "They hadna sailed upon the sea A day but barely three, Till loud and boisterous grew the wind, And gurly grew the sea."
Upon this low shore line, which lies blinking in the midday sun, the waves of history have beaten for two centuries and a half, and romance has had time to grow there. Out of any of these coves might have sailed Sir Patrick Spens "to Noroway, to Noroway," "They hadna sailed upon the sea A day but barely three, Till loud and boisterous grew the wind, And gurly grew the sea."
Then the king stood up in the unstable tower and shouted his own orders: "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship maun sail the faem; The King's daughter o' Noroway, 'Tis we maun fetch her hame." "Can't we rig the ship a little better?" demanded our stage-manager at this juncture. "It isn't half as good as the tower."
Oh but Sir Apple-Cheek was glorious as he roared virtuously: "Ye lee! ye lee! ye leers loud, Fu' loudly do you lee! "For I brocht as much white monie As gane my men and me, An' I brocht a half-fou o' gude red gowd Out ower the sea wi' me. "But betide me well, betide me wae, This day I'se leave the shore; And never spend my King's monie 'Mong Noroway dogs no more.
"Make ready, make ready, my merry men a', Our gude ship sails the morn." "Now you be the sailors, please!" Glad to be anything but Noroway dogs, we recited obediently "Now, ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm? . . . . . . . And if ye gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm."
"I was coming home late last night," said he, "and, as I was in that dark place along by the Noroway pines, old Lady Ferry she went by me, and I was near scared to death. She looked fearful tall towered way up above me. Her face was all lit up with blue light, and her feet didn't touch the ground. She wasn't taking steps, she wasn't walking, but movin' along like a sail-boat before the wind.
Then Rafe is Sir Patrick part of the time, and I the other part, because everybody likes to be him; but there's nobody left for the 'lords o' Noroway' or the sailors, and the Wrig is the only maiden to sit on the shore, and she always forgets to comb her hair and weep at the right time." The sun shone on her curly flaxen head.
Six-foot-two and red cheeks and straight as a Noroway pine; had a good property from his father, and his mother come of a good family, but he died in debt; drank like a fish. Yes, 'twas a shame, nice woman; good consistent church-member; always been respected; useful among the sick." Deephaven Society
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