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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Read the letter out loud, Rafe, and then you'll remember what to do." "To Noroway! to Noroway! To Noroway o'er the faem! The King's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis thou maun bring her hame," read Rafe. "Now do the next part!" "I can't; I'm going to chuck up that next part. I wish you'd do Sir Patrick until it comes to 'Ye lee! 'ye lee!" "No, that won't do, Rafe.
"Now let us make believe that we've hoisted our sails on 'Mononday morn' and been in Noroway 'weeks but only twae," said our leading man; "and your time has come now," turning to us. We felt indeed that it had; but plucking up sufficient courage for the lords o' Noroway, we cried accusingly, "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our King's gowd, And a' our Queenis fee!"
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."
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