Patrick Spencer (Live)

歌詞

Oh, don't the moon look pretty, she sails like a ship in the sky Darling, you don't know nothing about sailing, she's got a cast in her eye When the moon weeps silvery tears, you can look for a terrible storm I pity the sailor that's out tomorrow, I'm glad I can bide here at home If you be Patrick Spencer, and that man you'd better be I have a letter here from the King, he commands you to go to sea It's little he thinks of your danger, as he sits with his wine and his song His little daughter in far Norway, she's sick and she wants to come home Well, he could have sent me greetings, he could have cast me blame He could have asked me a hundred favours, god knows, I'd never complain But this running up in the rigging with a hurricane on the wing It's come to a matter of life and death to have to pleasure the King Standing out to sea that day, oh lord, it commenced to rain The waves like the tops of mountains and the wind like a thing in pain Patrick Spencer calls for his glass and he put it in Johnny's hand Saying, "Run up, Johnny, as high as you can, and see if you see any land" "No land, Patrick Spencer, not ever a sight of shore" "Well than, give it over, lads", he cried, "you'll never see home anymore Never mind your buckle shoes, you'll wet more than your feet And as for this letter from the King, it's a damn small winding-sheet" Christinie be a long, long time a-waiting for me to come home And the cold, cold sea be a long, long time a-washing over my bones That man that told the King about me, well, I wish I had him here The very last favour I'd ever have granted, is to carry him under with me