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Lyrics for Laird O Linne by Unknown:



Artist:Unknown
No album artwork found
Album:Unknown
Track:Laird O Linne
 
Date Added:18/10/2007
Views:194
 
Lyrics:The Laird O' Linne

O yonder he stands, and there he gangs,
The weary heir o'
Linne;
Yonder he stands on the cauld causey,
And nane bids him come in.
But it fell
ance upon a day,
The sheets were laid in fauld;
And poor Willie found he had nae
friends,
And it was wondrous cauld.
"Oh, one sheave o' your bread, nourice,
And one
glass o' your wine;
And I will pay you o'er again,
When I am Laird o'
Linne.

"Oh, one sheave o' my bread, Willie,
And one glass o' my wine;
But the
seas will be dry ere ye pay me again,
For ye'll never be Laird o' Linne."
But he mind't
him up, and he mind't him down
And he mind't him o'er again;
And he mind't him on a little
wee key,
That his mother ga'e to him.

He did him to the House o' Linne,
He
sought it up and down,
And there he found a little wee door,
And the key gaed slippin'
in.
And he got gowd, and he got gear,
He got gowd stor'd within
And he got gowd, and
he got gear,
Thrice worth the lands o' Linne.

He did him to the tavern
straight,
Where nobles were drinking therein
The greatest noble among them a'
Was
near to Willie o' kin.

And some of them bade him fish to eat,
And some of them bade
him a fin;
And some of them bade him nothing at a',
For he'd never be father's
son.

But out it spake an aged knicht,
And vow but he spake slie ---
"I'll sell
you your father's land back again,
All for the third pennie."
"I take witness upon you
here," he says,
"I take witness upon thee,
That you will sell me my father's land
again,
All for the third pennie."

Then he took out a little wee coffer,
And he
set it on his knee;
And he told the gowd doun on the table roun'
Says, "Tak' up your third
pennie."
"Come ben, come ben, my good nourice,
I'll pay you, when you come ben,
For
the seas are not dry, and I'll pay you back again
For I'm again the Laird o'
Linne."

Poor Willie, that night at eight o'clock,
Had his stockings abeen his
sheen;
But ere the morrow at twelve o'clock,
He was convoy'd by lords
sixteen.

from Bronson, Singing Tradition of Child's Popular Ballads
Child
#267
@money @Scots
filename[ LAIRDLIN
play.exe LAIRDLIN
RG
===DOCUMENT
BOUNDARY
 
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