And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 105
And layd them down upon the bord;
All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
Soe shent he cold say never a word.
He told him forth the good red gold.
He told it forth [with] mickle dinne. 110
"The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now Ime againe the lord of Linne."
Sayes, "Have thou here, thou good fellòwe,
Forty pence thou didst lend mee:
Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 115
And forty pounds I will give thee.
"Ile make thee keeper of my forrest,
Both of the wild deere and the tame;
For but I reward thy bounteous heart,
I-wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." 120
"Now welladay!" sayth Joan o' the Scales;
"Now welladay, and woe is my life!
Yesterday I was lady of Linne,
Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife."
"Now fare thee well," sayd the heire of Linne, 125
"Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee:
"Christs curse light on mee, if ever again
I bring my lands in jeopardy."
[THE HEIR OF LINNE.]
From Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 30, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
The bonny heir, and the weel-faur'd heir,
And the wearie heir o' Linne,
Yonder he stands at his father's yetts,
An naebody bids him come in.