Thus he hath sold his land so broad,
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
All but a poor and lonesome lodge,
That stood far off in a lonely glen.
For so he to his father hight.
My son, when I am gone, said he,
Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:
But swear me now upon the roode,
That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
For when all the world doth frown on thee,
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.
The heir of Linne is full of gold:
And come with me, my friends, said he,
Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,
And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.
They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thin;
And then his friends they slunk away;
They left the unthrifty heir of Linne.
He had never a penny left in his purse,
Never a penny left but three,
And one was brass, another was lead,
And another it was white monèy.
Now well-aday, said the heir of Linne,
Now well-aday, and woe is me,
For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.
But many a trusty friend have I,
And why should I feel dole or care?
I'll borrow of them all by turns,
So need I not be never bare.
But one, I wis, was not at home;
Another had payd his gold away;
Another call'd him thriftless loon,
And bade him sharply wend his way.
Now well-aday, said the heir of Linne,
Now well-aday, and woe is me!
For when I had my lands so broad,
On me they liv'd right merrilee.