( 4 )
He hadna a penny left in’s purse,
never a penny left but three;
The ane was brass, the tother lead,
the third was of the white monie.
Now well-a-day,’ said the Heir of Linne,
‘ now well-a-day, and woe is me;
‘ For when I was the Lord of Linne,
' I never wanted gold or see:
‘But mony a trusty friend have I,
and why should I feel dole or care?
‘I’ll borrow of them all by turns,
‘sae need I not be ever bare.’
But ane, I wot, was not at hame;
the next had paid his go’d away;
Another call’d him thriftless loon,
and sharply bad him wend his way.
Now well-a-day,’ said the Heir of Linne,
‘ now well a day and woe is me;
For when I had my lands sae bread,
‘ on me they liv’d right merrilie.
' To beg my bread from door to door,
‘ I’m sure, ’twould be a burning shame:
‘ To rob and steal would be a sin;
‘ to work my limbs I cannot frame.
‘Now I’ll away to lonesome lodge,
‘for there my father bad me wend,
'When all the world should frown on me.
'I there should find a trusty friend.’
Away then hied the heir of Linne,
o’er hill and holt and muir and fen.
Till he came to the lonesome lodge;
that stood so low into a glen.
