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72 |
THE HEIR OF LINNE. |
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As Willie he cam' up the toun, a
The fishers were a sittin'; Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish,
Some bade gie him a fin; Some bade gie him a fish, a fish,
And lat the palmer gang. u>
He turned him richt and roun' about,
As will as a woman's son, And taen his cane into his hand,
And on his way to Linne.
His nourice at her window look'd, a
Beholding dale and doun, And she beheld this distress'd young man
Come walkin' to the town.
" Come here, come here, Willie," she said,
" And set yoursel' wime; to
I hae seen you i' better days, And in jovial companie."
" Gie me a sheave o' your bread, nourice,
And a bottle o' your wine, And I'll pay you it a' ower again, es
When I'm the laird o' Linne."
" Ye'se got a sheave o' my bread, Willie, " And a bottle o' my wine,
58. your wine. |
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