Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish ballads

312
" Let's drink, 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 thinne ;
And then his friendes 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 ;
The tone was brass, the other was lead,
And tother it was white monie.
" Now well-a-way !" said the heir of Linne,
" Now well-a-way, and woe is me I
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 turnes,
So need I not be ever bare."
But one, I wis, was not at home,
Another had payd his gold away ;
Another called him thriftless loone.
And sharpely bade him wend his way.
" Now well-a-way I" said the heir of Linne,
" Now well-a-way, and woe is me I
For, when I had my lande so broad.
On me they lived richte merrilie.
To beg my bread from door to door,
I wis, it were a brenning shame :
To rob and steale it were a sinne :
To work my limbs I cannot frame.