3
Says, “Welcome, welcome, Lord of Linne,
“Let nought disturb thy merry cheer;
“If thou wilt sell thy lands sae broad,
“Good store of gold I’ll give thee here."
"My gold is gone, my money’s spent;
"My lands now take them unto thee;
"Give me the gold, good John o’ th’ Scaler,
"And thine for aye my lands shall be."
Then John did him to record draw,
And John gave him a god’s-pennie:
For every pound that John agreed,
The land, I’m sure, was well worth throe.
John told the gold upon the board,
He was right glad his land to win:
"The land is mine, the gold is thine,
"And now I’ll be the Lord of Linne."
Thus be bath sold bis lands sae broad,
Baith hill and holt, and muir and fen,
All but a poor and lonesome lodge,
That stood far aff into a glen:
For sae be to bis father bight,—
"My son, when 1 am gane,” said be,
"Then thou wilt spend thy land sae broad,
"And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:
"But swear me now upon the rude,
"That lonesome lodge thoult never spend:
"When all the world doth frown on then,
"Thou there shall find a faithful friend."
The Heir of Linne is full of gold:
"Come, come with me, my friends," said he,
"Let’s drink, and rant, and merry make,
"And he that spares, ne’er have may be."
They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thin
