For I brought as mickle white monie
  As gane my men and me,
And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud
  Out-o'er the sea wi' me.

Mak' ready, mak' ready, my merry men a'!
  Our gude ship sails the morn.’
‘Now, ever alake, my master dear,
  I fear a deadly storm.

I saw the new moon late yestreen
  Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And, if we gang to sea, master,
  I fear we'll come to harm.’

They hadna sailed a league, a league,
  A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
  And gurly grew the sea.

‘O where will I get a gude sailor
  To tak' my helm in hand,
Till I gae up to the tall topmast
  To see if I can spy land?’

‘O here am I, a s. . . Read More