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THE HEIR OP LINNE.
PAET THE FIRST.
Lithe and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song I will beginne: It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
Which was the unthrifty heire 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 daye with merry cheare,
To drinke and revell every night, 10
To card and dice from eve to morne, It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.
To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,
To alwaye spend and never spare, I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, is
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent; And he maun sell his landes so broad,
His house, and landes, and all his rent. w
His father had a keen stewarde,
And John o' the Scales was called hee: