Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 6, Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 156,
from Mrs. Gentles, Paisley, February 1825.
| 1 |
Our ship it was a gudely ship,
Its topmast was of gold,
And at every tack of needlework
There hung a silver bell. |
| 2 |
Up started the mermaid by our ship,
Wi the glass and the comb in her hand:
'Reek about, reek about, my merrie men,
Ye are not far from land.' |
| 3 |
'You lie, you lie, you pretty mermaid,
Sae loud as I hear you lie;
For since I have seen your face this nicht,
The land I will never see.' |
| 4 |
We hadna sailed a league but ane,
A league but barely three,
Till all we and our goodly ship
Was all drowned in the sea. |
| 5 |
Lang lang may our ladies stand,
Wi their seams into their hand,
Looking for Sir Patrick's ship,
That will never come to land. |
