‘Now well-a-day!’ said the heir of Linne,
‘I have left not one pennye.
God be with my father!’ he said,
‘On his land he lived merrilye.’
X
His nourice at her window look’d,
Beholding dale and down,
And she beheld this distress’d young man
Come walking to the town.
XI
‘O see for he gangs, and see for he stands,
The weary heir o’ Linne!
O see for he stands on the cauld causey,
And nane bids him come in!’—
XII
‘Sing owre again that sang, nourice,
The sang ye sung just now.’—
‘I never sung a sang i’ my life
But I would sing owre to you.
XIII
‘Come here, come here, Willy,’ she said,
‘And rest yoursel’ wi’ me;
I hae seen you in better days,
And in jovial companye.’—