The Heir o' Linne
Lane he stands and lane he gangs,
The weary heir o' Linne,
And lane he stands on the cauld causie
And nane will let him in, him in,
And nane will let him in.
When he was the bonnie heir o' Linne,
His sheets lay aye in fauld,
But now he stands on the cauld causie
And rives his chafts for cauld.
When he was the bonnie heir o' Linne,
His brose was keepit het,
But now he stands on the cauld causie
And nane will gie him meat.
"O gie me a loaf o' your breid, nerice,
And ane glass o' your wine;
And I will pay ye seiven times ower,
When I am the heir o' Linne."
"Ye'se get a sheaf o' my breid, Willie,
And a mutchkin o' my wine,
And ye'll pay me when the sea gangs dry,
For ye'll never be heir o' Linne."
When he was the bonnie heir o' Linne,
He had horses aye to his hand;
But noo he walks wi' a willow wand
Like a palmer through the land.
He's traivelled east and he's traivelled west,
Through a' the wynds o' Linne,
Till he min't him on a siller key
That he wore next to his skin.
This key he got frae his auld mither,
When she was near to deein',
And she tell't him to keep 't for as muckle need
As ever had mither's son.
He's traivelled haigh and he's traivelled laigh
Through a' the wynds o' Linne,
And when he cam' to an iron yett,
The key gaed sleekin' in.
There were seiven kists o' the white siller,
And seiven o' the gowd sae fine,
And there he got reid gowd enough
To free the lands o' Linne.
Then he's gane doon to a tavern hoose
Whaur the burgesses drink at the wine,
Says: "Gie me a drink o' your wine, burgess,
For the half o' it is mine."
Some would gie him a glass, a glass,
Some gied him a fish's fin,
And some were wae for the beggar chylde
That had tint the lands o' Linne.
Then oot it spak a prood burgess,
And he crawed baith crouse and hie:
"'I s'll gie ye your bonnie lands back again,
Gain ye'll gie me but ae bawbee."
"Noo, ye'll be witnesses," Willie cried,
"Ye'll be witnesses unto me;
He'll gie me my honnie parks back again,
Gin I gie him but ae bawbee."
"Aye, we'll be your witnesses, Willie," they cried,
"We'll witness unto thee;
And we'll pledge it in the bluid-reid wine,
But whaure's your ae hawbee?"
He's lowpit up to the ingle then
Whaur the burgesses drink at the wine,
And he's ta'en oot a hantle o' gowd
To free the lands o' Linne.
Then oot it spak a proud burgess
And he grat baith loud and hie:
"Gin ye ever hangit a fool," he cried,
"This day ye may hang me."
"Come here, come here, my ain nerice,
And I'll pay ye your breid and wine,
An' the sea's as wat as ever it was,
But I am the heir o' Linne."