Lithe and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song I will begin:
It is of a lord of faire Scotlànd,
Which was the unthrifty heir of Linne.
His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
And he lov'd keeping companie.
To spend the day with merry cheer,
To drinke and revell every night,
To card and dice from eve to morne,
It was, I ween, his heart's delight.
To ride, to run, to rant, to roar,
To alwaye spend and never spare,
I wot, an' it were the king himself,
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent;
And he maun sell his lands so broad,
His house, and lands, and all his rent.
His father had a keen stewàrde,
And John o' the Scales was called he:
But John is become a gentel-man,
And John has got both gold and fee.
Says, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheer;
If thou wilt sell thy lands soe broad,
Good store of gold I'll give thee here.
My gold is gone, my money is spent;
My land now take it unto thee:
Give me the gold, good John o' the Scales,
And thine for aye my land shall be.
Then John he did him to record draw,
And John he cast him a gods-pennie;
But for every pound that John agreed,
The land, I wis, was well worth three.
He told him the gold upon the bord,
He was right glad his land to win:
The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now I'll be the lord of Linne.