They drunken wine that was so cleere,
And every man they made merry,
And then bespake him John o’ the Scales
Unto the Lord of Lynne said hee;
Said “how doest thou heire of Lynne,
Since I did buy thy lands of thee?
I will sell it to thee twenty better cheepe,
Nor ever did I buy it of thee.”
“I draw you to recorde, lords all:”
With that he cast him god’s penny;
Then he tooke to his bags of bread,
And they were full of the gold so red.
He told him the gold then over the borde
It wanted never a broad pennye;
“That gold is thine, the land is mine,
And the heire of Lynne againe I will bee.”
“Now well-a-day!” said John o’ the Scales’ wife,
“Well-a-day, and woe is me!
Yesterday I was the lady of Lynne,
And now I am but John o’ the Scales wife!”
Says “have thou here, thou good fellow,
Forty pence thou did lend me;
Forty pence thou did lend me,
And forty I will give thee,
I’ll make thee keeper of my forrest,
Both of the wild deere and the tame.”
But then bespake the heire of Lynne,
These were the words and thus spake hee,
“Christ’s curse light upon my crowne
If ere my land stand in any jeopardye!”
GORDON OF BRACKLEY
Down Deeside cam Inveraye
Whistlin’ and playing,
An’ called loud at Brackley gate
Ere the day dawning—
“Come, Gordon of Brackley.
Proud Gordon, come down,
There’s a sword at your threshold
Mair sharp than your own.”
“Arise now, gay Gordon,”
His lady ’gan cry,
“Look, here is bold Inveraye
Driving your kye.”
“How can I go, lady,
An’ win them again,
When I have but ae sword,
And Inveraye ten?”