Gordon Bok - Patrick spencer

Oh^G/B, don't the ^Ammoon look pretty, she ^Fsails like a ship in the ^Csky ^DmDarling, you don't know ^Gnothing about sailing, ^Fshe's got a cast in her ^G7eye ^C When the ^G/Bmoon weeps ^Amsilvery tears, you can ^Flook for a terrible ^Cstorm I ^Dmpity the sailor that's ^Gout tomorrow, I'm ^Fglad I can ^Gbide here at ^Chome

If you ^G/Bbe Patrick ^AmSpencer, and ^Fthat man you'd better ^Cbe I have a ^Dmletter here ^Gfrom the King, he com^Fmands you to go to ^G7sea It's ^Clittle he ^G/Bthinks of your ^Amdanger, as he ^Fsits with his wine and his ^Csong His ^Dmlittle daughter in ^Gfar Norway, she's ^Fsick and she ^Gwants to come ^Chome

Well, he ^Ccould have^G/B sent me ^Amgreetings, he ^Fcould have cast me ^Cblame ^DmHe could have asked me a ^Ghundred favours, god ^Fknows, I'd never com^G7plain But this ^Grunning ^G/Bup in the ^Amrigging with a ^Fhurricane on the ^Cwing It's ^Dmcome to a matter of ^Glife and death to ^Fhave to ^Gpleasure the ^CKing

Standing ^G/Bout to ^Amsea that day, oh ^Flord, it commenced to ^Crain The ^Dmwaves like the tops of ^Gmountains and the ^Fwind like a thing in ^G7pain ^C Patrick ^G/BSpencer ^Amcalls for his glass and he ^Fputs it in Johnny's ^Chand Saying, "^DmRun up, Johnny, as ^Ghigh as you can, and ^Fsee if you ^Gsee any ^Cland"

"No land^G/B, Patrick ^AmSpencer, nor ^Fever a sight of ^Cshore" "Well ^Dmthan, give it over, ^Glads", he cried, "you'll ^Fnever see home any^G7more ^C Never ^G/Bmind your ^Ambuckled shoes, you'll ^Fwet more than your ^Cfeet And ^Dmas for this letter ^Gfrom the King, it's a ^Fdamn small ^Gwinding-^Csheet"

^CChristinie ^G/Bbe a ^Amlong, long time a-^Fwaiting for me to come ^Chome And the ^Dmcold, cold sea be a ^Glong, long time a-^Fwashing over my ^G7bones And ^Cthat man that ^G/Btold the ^AmKing about me, well, I ^Fwish I had him ^Chere The ^Dmvery last favour I'd ^Gever have granted, is to ^Fcarry him ^Gunder with ^Cme