English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VIII

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts

"Sing ower again that sang, nourice,
      The sang ye sang just noo;"
    "I never sang a sang i' my life,                                  15
      But I wad sing ower to you."

    O see for he gangs, an' see for he stands,
      The wearie heir o' Linne;
    O see for he stands on the cauld casey,
      An' nae an' bids him come in.                                   20

    But if he had been his father's heir,
      Or yet the heir o' Linne,
    He wadna stand on the cauld casye,
      Some ane wad taen him in.

    When his father's lands a sellin' were,                           25
      His claise lay weel in fauld,
    But now he wanders on the shore,
      Baith hungry, weet, and cauld.

    As Willie he gaed down the toun,
      The gentlemen were drinkin';                                    30
    Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
      And some bade him gae nane;
    Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
      The weary heir o' Linne.

    As Willie he cam' up the toun,                                    35
      The fishers were a sittin';
    Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish,
      Some bade gie him a fin;
    Some bade gie him a fish, a fish,
      And lat the palmer gang.                                        40

    He turned him richt and roun' about,
      As will as a woman's son,
    And taen his cane into his hand,
      And on his way to Linne.

    His nourice at her window look'd,                                 45
      Beholding dale and doun,
    And she beheld this distress'd young man
      Come walkin' to the town.

    "Come here, come here, Willie," she said,
      "And set yoursel' wi me;                                        50
    I hae seen you i' better days,
      And in jovial companie."

    "Gie me a sheave o' your bread, nourice,
      And a bottle o' your wine,
    And I'll pay you it a' ower again,                                55
      When I'm the laird o' Linne."

    "Ye'se got a sheave o' my bread, Willie,
      "And a bottle o' my wine,[L58]
    An' ye'll pay me when the seas gang dry,
      But ye'll ne'er be heir o' Linne."                              60

    Then he turn'd him richt and roun' about,
      As will as woman's son;
    And aff he set, and bent his way,
      And straightway came to Linne.

    But when he cam to that castle,                                   65
      They were set doun to dine;
    A score o' nobles there he saw,
      Sat drinkin' at the wine.

    Then some bad' gie him beef, the beef,
      And some bad' gie him the bane;                                 70
    And some bad' gie him naething at a',
      But lat the palmer gang.

    Then out it speaks the new come laird,
      A saucie word spak' hee;
    "Put roun' the cup, gie my rival a sup,                           75
      Lat him fare on his way."

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English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VIII

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