# The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 8/Chapter 245

A
ARR'rr THE skippers of bonny Lothain, As they sat at the wine, There fell a reesin them amang, An it was in unhappy time. Some o them reesd their hawks, An some o them their hounds, An some o them their ladies gay, Trod neatly on the ground; Young Allan he reesd his comely cog, That lay upon the strand. 'I hae as good a ship this day As ever sailed our seas, Except it be the Burges Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; We's lay that three bye in time.' Out spak there a little boy, Just at Young Allan's knee: 'Ye lie, ye lie, Young Allan, Sae loud's I hear ye lie. For my master has a little boat Will sail thrice as well as thine; For she'll gang in at your foremast, An gae out your fore-lee, An nine times in a winter night She'll tak the wind frae thee.' 'O wht will ye wad, ye Young Allan? Or what will ye wad wi me?' 'I'll wad my head against your land Till I get more monnie.' They had na saild a league, A league but barely three, But through an thro the bonny ship They saw the green wall sea. They had na saild a league, A league but barely five, But through an thro their bonny ship They saw the green well wave. He gaed up to the topmast, To see what he coud see, And there he saw the Burgess Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; The three was rent in nine. Young Allan grat and wrang his hands, An he kent na what to dee: 'The win is loud, and the waves are proud, An we'll a' sink in the sea. 'But gin I coud get a bonny boy Wad tak my helm in han, That would steer my bonny ship, An bring her safe to land, 'He shoud get the twa part o my goud, The third o my land, An gin we win safe to shore He shoud get my dochter Ann.' 'O here am I, a bonny boy That will tak your helm in han, An will steer your bonny ship, An bring her safe to lan. 'Ye tak four-an-twenty feather-beds An lay the bonny ship round, An as much of the good canvas As mak her hale an soun.' They took four-and-twenty feather-beds An laid the bonny ship roun, An as much o the good canvas As made her hale an soun. 'Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, An goud shall be your hire!' Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her hire, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As sparks do frae the fire. 'Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, And goud sall be your fee!' Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her fee, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As the leaf does frae the tree. The sailors stan on the shore-side, Wi their auld baucheld sheen: 'Thanks to God an our guid master That ever we came safe to land!' 'Whar is the bonny boy That took my helm in han, That steerd my bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan? 'He's get the twa part o my goud, The third part o my lan, An, since we're come safe to shore, He's get my dochter Ann.' 'O here am I, the bonny boy That took your helm in han, That steered your bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan. 'I winna hae the twa part o your goud, Nor the third part o your lan, But, since we hae win safe to shore, I'll wed your dochter Ann.' Forty ships went to the sea, Forty ships and five, An there never came ane o a' back, But Young Allan, alive.
B
THERE were four-and-twenty sailors bold Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them among, In an unseally time. Some there reasd their hawk, their hawk, And some there reasd their hound, But Young Allan reasd his comely cog, As she floats on the feam. 'There's not a ship amang you a' Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Heckland Hawk, And Flower o Germanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are all gane frae me.' The wager was a gude wager, Of fifty tuns of wine, And as much o the gude black silk As cleathd their lemans fine. At midnight dark the wind up stark, The seas began to rout; Young Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlins about. 'O faer will I get a bonny boy Will take my helm in hand Ere I gang up to the tapmast-head To look for some dry land?' 'O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lie drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinburgh town Ye bought them shoes o ben. 'There was no shoes made for my feet, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I'll take your helm in hand Till ye gae to the topmast head And look for some dry land.' 'I cannot see no day, no day, Nor no meathe can I ken; But many a bonny feather-bed Lies floating on the faem.' 'Come down, come down, my dear master, You see not what I see; Through and through your bonny new ship Comes in the green haw sea.' 'Take fifty ells o the canvas broad And wrap it in a' roun, And as much good pich an tar Make her go hale an soun. 'Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And haste ye to dry lan, And every nail that is in you Shall be a gay gold pin. 'Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And hae me to some lan, And a firlot full o guineas red Will be dealt at the lan's end.' The ship she hearkend to their voice And listend to the leed, And she gaed thro the green haw sea Like fire out o a gleed. When the ship got word o that, Goud was to be her beat, She's flowen thro the stormy seas Like sparks out o a weet. The first an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Troup; Wi cannons an great shooting there, They held Young Allan out. The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lee; Wi piping an sweet singing there, They towed Young Allan tee. The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lin; Wi drums beating and pipers playing, They towed Young Allan in, And Allan's lady she was there, To welcome Allan hame. 'O faer is my little boy,' he said, 'That I brought oer the sea?' 'I'm coming, master, running, master, At your command shall be.' 'O take to you my comely cog, And wed my daughter free, And a' for this ae night's wark That ye did wake wi me.'
C
ALL the skippers o Scarsburgh Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them amang, On an unseally time. Some there rousd their hawk, their hawk, And some there rousd their hound, But Young Allan rousd his comely cog, As she stood on dry ground. 'There's nae a ship in Scarsburgh Will sail the seas wi mine, Except it be the Brugess Black, Or than the smack calld Twine. 'There's nae a ship amang you a' Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Hecklandhawk, And Flower o Yermanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are a' gane frae me.' Out it speaks a little wee boy Stood by Young Allan's knee; 'My master has a coal-carrier Will take the wind frae thee. 'She will gae out under the leaf, Come in under the lee, And nine times in a winter night She'll turn the wind wi thee.' When they had wagerd them amang Full fifty tuns o wine, Besides as mickle gude black silk As clathe their lemans fine, When all the rest went to the tows, All the whole night to stay, Young Allan he went to his bower, There with his God to pray. 'There shall nae man gang to my ship Till I say mass amd dine, And take my leave o my lady; Gae to my bonny ship syne.' Then they saild east on Saturday, On Sunday sail d west, Likewise they sailed on Mononday Till twelve, when they did rest. At midnight dark the wind up stark, And seas began to rout, Till Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlands about. 'O,' sighing says the Young Allan, 'I fear a deadly storm; For mony a heaving sinking sea Strikes sair on my ship's stern. 'Where will I get a little wee boy Will take my helm in hand Till I gang up to my tapmast And see for some dry land?' 'O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lye drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinbro town Ye bought them sheen o ben. 'There was nae shoe made for my foot, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I'll take your helm in hand Till ye gang to the tall tapmast And look for some dry land. 'And here am I, a little wee boy Will take your helm in han Till ye gang up to your tapmast, But, master, stay not lang.' 'I cannot see nae day, nae day, Nor nae meathe can I ken; But mony a bonny feather-bed Lyes floating on the faem, And the comely cog o Normanshore, She never will gang hame.' The comely cog o Nicklingame Came sailing by his hand; Says, Gae down, gae down, ye gude skipper, Your ship sails on the sand. 'Come down, come down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see; For thro and thro our comely cog I see the green haw sea.' 'Take fifty ells o gude canvas And wrap the ship a' round; And pick her weell, and spare her not, And make her hale and sound. 'If ye will sail, my bonny ship, Till we come to dry land, For ilka iron nail in you, Of gowd there shall be ten.' The ship she listend all the while, And, hearing of her hire, She flew as swift threw the saut sea As sparks do frae the fire. The first an shore that they came till, They ca'd it Howdoloot; Wi drums beating and cannons shouting, They held our gude ship out. The next an shore that they came till, They ca'd it Howdilee; Wi drums beating and fifes playing, They bare her to the sea. The third an shore that they came till, They ca'd it Howdilin; Wi drums beating and pipes playing, They towd our gude ship in. The sailors walkd upon the shore, Wi their auld baucheld sheen, And thanked God and their Lady, That brought them safe again. 'For we went out o Scarsburgh Wi fifty ships and three; But nane o them came back again But Young Allan, ye see.' 'Come down, come down, my little wee boy, Till I pay you your fee; I hae but only ae daughter, And wedded to her ye'se be.'
D
THERE was three lords sat drinkin wine In bonnie Aberdeen, [O] . . . . . . . . . Some o them talked o their merchandise, An some o their ladies fine, [O] But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship, That cost him mony a poun.
'Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy That'll tak my helm in han, O Till I gang up to my high topmast An look oot for some dry lan? 'He'll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An gin he row me safe on shore He shall hae my daughter Ann.' 'O here am I, a bonny wee boy That'll tak your helm in han Till ye gang up to your high topmast An look oot for some dry lan. I'll nae seek your gowd, nor I'll nae seek your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But gin I row you safe to shore I shall hae your daughter Ann. 'Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,' he cries, 'Ye see nae what I see; For through an through your bonnie ship-side An I see the open sea. 'Ye'll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds, Ye'll busk your bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar gang hale an soun. 'An whar ye want an iron bolt Ye'll ca a siller pin, An whar ye want an oaken bolt Ye'll beat the yellow gold in.' He's taen twenty-four o his feather-beds An buskit's bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar her gang hale an soun. An whar he's wantit an iron bolt He's ca'd a siller pin, An whar he's wantit an oaken bolt He's beat the yellow gold in. The firstan shore that they cam till, It was the shore o Linn; They held their spears an beenits oot, An they wouldna lat Allan in. The neistan shore that they cam till It was the shore o . . '.; . . . . An they turned their ship aboot. But the neistan shore that they came till, 'Twas bonnie Aberdeen; The fifes an drums they a' did play, To welcome Allan in. 'O where is he, the bonnie wee boy That took my helm in han Till I gied up to my high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan? 'He's get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An since he's rowt me safe to shore He sall hae my daughter Ann.' 'O here am I, the bonnie wee boy That took your helm in han Till ye gied up to your high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan. 'I'll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But since I've rowt you safe to shore I sall hae your daughter Ann.'
E
THE king he sits in Dumfermline, Birlin at the wine, And callin for the best skipper That ever sailed the faem. Then out it spak a bonny boy, Sat at the king's right knee; 'Earl Patrick is the best skipper That ever sailed the sea.' The king he wrote a braed letter, And sealed it wi his ring, And sent it to Earl Patrick, . . . 'Oh wha is this, or wha is that, Has tald the king o me? For I was niver a gude mariner, And niver sailed the sea.
'Ye'll eat and drink, my merry young men, The red wine you amang, For blaw it wind, or blaw it sleet, Our ship maun sail the morn. 'Late yestreen I saw the new meen Wi the auld meen in hir arm,' And sichand said him Earl Patrick, 'I fear a deadly storm.' They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro mony a stormy stream, Till they saw the Dam o Micklengaem, When she sank amang the faem. They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Duke o Normandy, And she sank among the faem. They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Black Shater o Leve London And her topmast gaed in nine. 'Where will I get a bonny boy That will tack my helm in hand Till I gang up to my topmast, And spy for some dry land?' 'Now here am I, a bonny boy Will tack yer helm in hand Till ye go up to your topmast But I fear ye'll never see land.' 'Cum down, cum down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see, For through and through yer bonny ship I see the raging sea.' 'Ye'll tak four-and-twenty fether-beds, And lay my bonny ship roun, And as muckle o the fine canvas As make her haill and soun. 'And where she wants an iron nail O silver she's hae three, And where she wants a timmer-pin We'll rap the red goud in.'
The firsten shore that they cam till, They cad it shore the Linn; Wi heart and hand and good command, They towed their bonny ship in. The nexten shore that they came till, They caad it shore the Lee; With heart and hand and good command, They towed the bonny ship tee. There was twenty ships gaed to the sea, Twenty ships and ane, And there was na ane came back again But Earl Patrick alane.