But swear me now upon the rude, That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend; For when all the world doth frown on thee, Thou there shalt find a faithful friend. The heir of Linne is full of gold: And come with me, my friends, sayd he, Let's drink, and rant, and merry make, And he that spares, ne'er mote he be. They ranted, drank, and merry made, He hadna a penny left in his purse, The tane was brass, and tother was lead, Now well-a-day, sayd the heir of Linne, But mony a trustie friend have I, But ane, I wis, was not at hame, And bad him sharpely wend his way. Now well-a-day, sayd the heir of Linne, To beg my bread from door to door To work my limbs I cannot frame. Now I'll away to lonesome lodge, PART SECOND. AWAY then hyed the heir of Linne He looked up, he looked down, In hope some comfort for to win, The little window dim and dark No chair, no table he mote spye, No chearful hearth, no welcome bed, Nought save a rope with renning noose, That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written so plain to see: "Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all, "And brought thyself to penurie? "All this my boding mind misgave, "I therefore left this trusty friend: "Let it now shield thy foule disgrace, "And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heir of Linne, Never a word spake the heir of Linne, "And is right welcome unto me.” Then round his neck the cord he drew, Astonyed lay the heir of Linne, Nor knew if he were live or dead, He took the bill, and lookt it on, It told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in fere. Two were full of the beaten gold, The third was full of white monie, And over them in broad letters These words were written so plain to see. "Once more, my son, I set thee clear; And let it be, sayd the heir of Linne; Away then went the heir of Linne; Till John o' the Scales house he came near. And when he came to John o' the Scales, And then bespake the heir of Linne I pray Away, away, thou thriftless loon, Then bespake the heir of Linne, To John o' the Scales wife ther: spake he: Madam, some alms on me bestow, I pray for sweet saint charitie. Away, away, thou thriftless loon, Then bespake a good fellow, Which sat at John o' the Scales his board; Sayd, turn again, thou heir of Linne, Unless I ameud. + Advice, counsel. Some time a good fellow thou hast been, And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, Up then spake him John o' the Scales, And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne, I draw you to record, lords, he said, And he pull'd forth three baggs of gold, He told him forth the good red gold, The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now I'm again the lord of Linne. Says, have thou here, thou good fellow, |