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69. A Wooing in Dunfermline
[And that me thocht ane ferly cace]
This hindir nycht in Dumfermeling
To me was tawld ane windir thing:
That lait ane tod wes with ane lame
And with hir playit and maid gud game,
Syne till his breist did hir imbrace
And wald haif riddin hir lyk ane rame -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
He braisit hir bony body sweit
And halsit hir with fordir feit,
Syne schuk his taill with quhinge and yelp,
And todlit with hir lyk ane quhelp;
Syne lowrit on growfe and askit grace,
And ay the lame cryd, "Lady, help!" -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
The tod wes nowder lene nor skowry.
He wes ane lusty reid haird lowry,
Ane lang taild beist and grit with all.
The silly lame wes all to small
To sic ane tribbill to hald ane bace.
Scho fled him nocht, fair mot hir fall -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
The tod wes reid, the lame wes quhyte,
Scho wes ane morsall of delyte -
He lovit na yowis, auld, tuch, and sklender.
Becaus this lame wes yung and tender,
He ran upoun hir with a race,
And scho schup nevir for till defend hir -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
He grippit hir abowt the west
And handlit hir as he had hest.
This innocent that nevir trespast
Tuke hert that scho wes handlit fast,
And lute him kis hir lusty face.
His girnand gamis hir nocht agast -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
He held hir till him be the hals
And spak full fair, thocht he wes fals,
Syne said and swoir to hir be God
That he suld nocht tuich hir prenecod.
The silly thing trowd him, allace,
The lame gaif creddence to the tod -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
I will no lesingis put in vers,
Lyk as thir jangleris dois rehers,
Bot be quhat maner thay war mard.
Quhen licht wes owt and durris wes bard
I wait nocht gif he gaif hir grace,
Bot all the hollis wes stoppit hard -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
Quhen men dois fleit in joy maist far,
Sone cumis wo or thay be war.
Quhen carpand wer thir two most crows,
The wolf he ombesett the hous
Upoun the tod to mak ane chace.
The lamb than cheipit lyk a mows -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
Throw hiddowis yowling of the wowf
This wylie tod plat doun on growf,
And in the silly lambis skin
He crap als far as he micht win
And hid him thair ane weill lang space.
The yowis besyd thay maid na din -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.
Quhen of the tod wes hard no peip,
The wowf went all had bene on sleip;
And quhill the bell had strikkin ten,
The wowf hes drest him to his den,
Protestand for the secound place.
And this report I with my pen,
How at Dumfermling fell the cace.
70. To the Queen
[Madam, your men said]
Madam, your men said thai wald ryd
And latt this Fasterennis Evin ouer slyd,
Bott than thair wyffis cam furth in flockis
And baid tham betteis soin abyd
Att haem, and lib tham of the pockis.
Nou propois thai, sen ye dwell still,
Of Venus feest to fang an fill,
Bott in the fedle preiff thai na cockis.
For till heff riddin hed bein les ill,
Nor latt thair wyffis breid the pockis.12
Sum of your men sic curage hed,
Dam Venus fyre sa hard tham sted,
Thai brak up durris and raeff up lockis
To get ane pamphelet on a pled
That thai mycht lib tham of the pockis.
Sum that war ryatous as rammis
Ar nou maid tame lyk ony lammis,
And settin down lyk sarye crockis,
And hes forsaekin all sic gammis
That men callis libbin of the pockis.
Sum thocht thamselffis stark lyk gyandis
Ar nou maid waek lyk willing wandis
With schinnis scharp and small lyk rockis,
And gottin thair bak in bayth thair handis
For ouer offt libbin of the pockis.
I saw coclinkis me besyd
The young men to thair howses gyd
Had bettir lugget in the stockis.
Sum fra the bordell wald nocht byd
Quhill that thai gatt the Spanyie pockis.
Thairfoir, all young men, I you pray,
Keip you fra harlottis nycht and day -
Thai sall repent quhai with tham yockis -
And be war with that perrellous play
That men callis libbin of the pockis.
71. Of a Black Moor
[My ladye with the mekle lippis]
Lang heff I maed of ladyes quhytt,
Nou of an blak I will indytt
That landet furth of the last schippis.
Quhou fain wald I descryve perfytt
My ladye with the mekle lippis.
Quhou schou is tute mowitt lyk an aep,
And lyk a gangarall onto graep,
And quhou hir schort catt nois up skippis,
And quhou schou schynes lyk ony saep,
My ladye with the mekle lippis.
Quhen schou is claid in reche apparrall,
Schou blinkis als brycht as an tar barrell.
Quhen schou was born the son tholit clippis,
The nycht be fain faucht in hir querrell -
My ladye with the mekle lippis.
Quhai for hir saek with speir and scheld
Preiffis maest mychtellye in the feld,
Sall kis and withe hir go in grippis,
And fra thyne furth hir luff sall weld -
My ladye with the mekle lippis.
And quhai in fedle receaves schaem
And tynis thair his knychtlie naem,
Sall cum behind and kis hir hippis
And nevir to uther confort claem,
My ladye with the mekle lippis.
72. In a Secret Place
[Ye brek my hart, my bony ane]
In secreit place this hyndir nycht
I hard ane beyrne say till ane bricht:
"My huny, my hart, my hoip, my heill,
I have bene lang your luifar leill
And can of yow get confort nane.
How lang will ye with danger deill?
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."
His bony beird wes kemmit and croppit,
Bot all with cale it wes bedroppit,
And he wes townysche, peirt, and gukit.
He clappit fast, he kist and chukkit
As with the glaikis he wer ouirgane.
Yit be his feirris he wald have fukkit -
"Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."
Quod he: "My hairt, sweit as the hunye,
Sen that I borne wes of my mynnye,
I never wowit weycht bot yow.
My wambe is of your luif sa fow
That as ane gaist I glour and grane.
I trymble sa, ye will not trow,
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."
"Tehe!" quod scho, and gaif ane gawfe.
"Be still, my tuchan and my calfe,
My new spanit howffing fra the sowk,
And all the blythnes of my bowk.
My sweit swanking, saif yow allane
Na leyd I luiffit all this owk:
Full leif is me yowr graceles gane."
Quod he: "My claver and my curldodie,
My huny soppis, my sweit possodie,
Be not oure bosteous to your billie,
Be warme hairtit and not evill wille.
Your heylis, quhyt as quhalis bane,
Garris ryis on loft my quhillelille:
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."
Quod scho: "My clype, my unspaynit gyane,
With moderis mylk yit in your mychane,
My belly huddrun, my swete hurle bawsy,
My huny gukkis, my slawsy gawsy,
Your musing waild perse ane harte of stane.
Tak gud confort, my grit-heidit slawsy:
Full leif is me your graceles gane."
Quod he: "My kid, my capirculyoun,
My bony baib with the ruch brylyoun,
My tendir gyrle, my wallie gowdye,
My tyrlie myrlie, my crowdie mowdie,
Quhone that oure mouthis dois meit at ane,
My stang dois storkyn with your towdie:
Ye brek my hairt, my bony ane."
Quod scho: "Now tak me by the hand,
Welcum, my golk of Marie land,
My chirrie and my maikles munyoun,
My sowklar sweit as ony unyoun,
My strumill stirk yit new to spane.
I am applyit to your opunyoun:
I luif rycht weill your graceles gane."
He gaiff to hir ane apill rubye.
Quod scho, "Gramercye, my sweit cowhubye!"
And thai tway to ane play began
Quhilk men dois call the dery dan,
Quhill that thair myrthis met baythe in ane.
"Wo is me," quod scho, "Quhair will ye, man?
Best now I luif that graceles gane."
73. These Fair Ladies That Repair to Court
Thir ladeis fair that maks repair
And in the courte ar kend,
Thre dayis thair thai will do mair
Ane mater for to end
Than thair gud men will do in ten
For ony craift thai can.
So weill thai ken quhat tyme and quhen
Thair meynis thai sould mak than.
Withe litill noy thai can convoy
A mater finalie,
Yit myld and moy thai keip it coy
On evynnis quyetlie.
Thai do no mys, bot gif thai kys
And kepis collatioun,
Quhat rak of this? The mater is
Brocht to conclusioun.
Ye may wit weill thai have grit feill
A mater to solist.
Traist as the steill, syne never a deill
Quhone thai cum hame is myst.
Thir lairdis ar, me think, rycht far
Sic ladeis behaldin to
That sa weill dar go to the bar
Quhone thair is ocht ado.
Thairfoir, I rid, gif ye have pleid
Or mater in to pley,
To mak remeid send in your steid
Your ladeis grathit up gay.
Thai can defend, evin to the end,
Ane mater furthe expres.
Suppois thai spend, it is onkend
Thair geir is not the les.
In quyet place and thai have space
Within les nor twa houris,
Thai can, percace, purchas sic grace
At the compositouris,
Thair compositioun, without suspitioun,
Thair finalie is endit
With expeditioun and full remissioun
And selis thairto appendit.
All haill almoist thai mak the coist
With sobir recompence.
Rycht litle loist thai get indoist
All haill thair evidens.
Sic ladyis wyis ar all to pryis,
To say the verité,
Sic can devyis and none supprys
Thame throw thair honesté.
74. Tidings from the Session
Ane murelandis man of uplandis mak
At hame thus to his nychtbour spak:
"Quhat tythingis, gossope, peace or weir?"
The uther roundit in his eir:
"I tell yow this, undir confessioun.
Bot laitlie lychtit of my meir,
I come of Edinburch fra the Sessioun."
"Quhat tythingis herd ye thair, I pray yow?"
The tuther ansuerit, "I sall say yow,
Keip this in secreit, gentill brudir -
Is no man thair trowis ane udir.
A commoun doar of transgressioun
Of innocent folkis prevenis a fuider:
Sic tythandis hard I at the Sessioun.
"Sum withe his fallow rownys him to pleis
That wald for anger byt of his neis.
His fa sum be the oxtar ledis.
Sum pattiris with his mouthe on beidis
That hes his mynd all on oppressioun.
Sum bekis full laich and schawis bair heidis
Wald luke full heich war not the Sessioun.
"Sum bydand law layis land in wed,
Sum superspendit gois to his bed,
Sum spedis for he in court hes meynis,
Of parcialité sum complenis,
How feid and favour fleymis discretioun.
Sum speikis full fair and falslie feynis:
Sic tythandis herd I at the Sessioun.
Sum castis summondis and sum exceppis,
Sum standis besyd and skayld law keppis,
Sum is contineuit, sum wynnis, sum tynis,
Sum makis thame myrre at the wynis,
And sum putt out of his possessioun,
Sum hyrreit and on credence dynis:
Sic tythingis hard I at the Sessioun.
"Sum sweiris and sum forsaikis God,
Sum in ane lamb skyn is a tod,
Sum on his toung his kyndnes tursis,
Sum kervis throittis, and sum cuttis pursis.
To gallows sum gais with processioun,
Sum sanis the Sait, and sum thame cursis:
Sic tythingis herd I at the Sessioun.
"Religious men of dyvers places
Cumis thair to wow and se fair faces.
Baith Carmeletis and Coirdeleiris
Cumis thair to gener and get freirris,
As is the use of thair professioun.
The youngar at the elder leiris:
Sic tythingis herd I at the Sessioun.
"Thair cumis young monkis of het complexioun,
Of devoit mynd, lufe, and affectioun,
And in the courte thair proud flesche dantis,
Full fadirlyk with pechis and pantis.
Thai ar so humill of intercessioun,
All mercyfull women thair errand grantis:
Sic tythingis hard I at the Sessioun."
75. To the Merchants of Edinburgh
Quhy will ye, merchantis of renoun,
Lat Edinburgh, your nobill toun,
For laik of reformatioun
The commone proffeitt tyine and fame?
Think ye not schame
That onie uther regioun
Sall with dishonour hurt your name?
May nane pas throw your principall gaittis
For stink of haddockis and of scattis,
For cryis of carlingis and debaittis,
For feusum flyttinis of defame.
Think ye not schame,
Befoir strangeris of all estaittis
That sic dishonour hurt your name?
Your Stinkand Stull that standis dirk
Haldis the lycht fra your parroche kirk.
Your foirstairis makis your housis mirk
Lyk na cuntray bot heir at hame.
Think ye not schame,
Sa litill polesie to work,
In hurt and sklander of your name?
At your Hie Croce quhar gold and silk
Sould be, thair is bot crudis and milk,
And at your Trone bot cokill and wilk,
Pansches, pudingis of Jok and Jame.
Think ye not schame,
Sen as the world sayis that ilk,
In hurt and sclander of your name?
Your commone menstrallis hes no tone
Bot "Now the day dawis" and "Into Joun."
Cunningar men man serve Sanct Cloun
And nevir to uther craftis clame.
Think ye not schame,
To hald sic mowaris on the moyne,
In hurt and sclander of your name?
Tailyouris, soutteris, and craftis vyll
The fairest of your streitis dois fyll,
And merchantis at the Stinkand Styll
Ar hamperit in ane honycame.
Think ye not schame
That ye have nether witt nor wyll
To win yourselff ane bettir name?
Your burgh of beggeris is ane nest,
To schout thai swentyouris will not rest.
All honest folk they do molest,
Sa piteuslie thai cry and rame.
Think ye not schame,
That for the poore hes nothing drest,
In hurt and sclander of your name?
Your proffeit daylie dois incres,
Your godlie workis, les and les.
Through streittis nane may mak progres
For cry of cruikit, blind, and lame.
Think ye not schame,
That ye sic substance dois posses,
And will not win ane bettir name?
Sen for the Court and the Sessioun,
The great repair of this regioun
Is in your burgh, thairfoir be boun
To mend all faultis that ar to blame,
And eschew schame.
Gif thai pas to aneuther toun,
Ye will decay and your great name.
Thairfoir strangeris and leigis treit,
Tak not ouer mekill for thair meit,
And gar your merchandis be discreit.
That na extortiounes be, proclame
All fraud and schame.
Keip ordour and poore nighbouris beit,
That ye may gett ane bettir name.
Singular proffeit so dois yow blind,
The common proffeit gois behind.
I pray that Lord remeid to fynd
That deit into Jerusalem,
And gar yow schame,
That sumtyme ressoun may yow bind,
For to restor to yow guid name.
76. How Dunbar Was Desired to Be a Friar
This nycht befoir the dawing cleir
Me thocht Sanct Francis did to me appeir
With ane religious abbeit in his hand
And said, "In this go cleith thee my servand.
Reffus the warld, for thow mon be a freir."
With him and with his abbeit bayth I skarrit
Lyk to ane man that with a gaist wes marrit.
Me thocht on bed he layid it me abone,
Bot on the flure delyverly and sone
I lap thairfra and nevir wald cum nar it.
Quoth he, "Quhy skarris thow with this holy weid?
Cleith thee thairin, for weir it thow most neid.
Thow that hes lang done Venus lawis teiche
Sall now be freir and in this abbeit preiche.
Delay it nocht, it mon be done but dreid."
Quod I, "Sanct Francis, loving be thee till,
And thankit mot thow be of thy gude will
To me, that of thy clathis ar so kynd,
Bot thame to weir it nevir come in my mynd.
Sweit confessour, thow tak it nocht in ill.
"In haly legendis haif I hard allevin
Ma sanctis of bischoppis nor freiris, be sic sevin.
Of full few freiris that hes bene sanctis I reid;
Quhairfoir ga bring to me ane bischopis weid,
Gife evir thow wald my sawle gaid unto Hevin."
"My brethir oft hes maid thee supplicationis
Be epistillis, sermonis, and relationis
To tak the abyte, bot thow did postpone.
But forder proces cum on thairfoir annone,
All sircumstance put by and excusationis."
"Gif evir my fortoun wes to be a freir,
The dait thairof is past full mony a yeir;
For into every lusty toun and place
Of all Yngland, frome Berwick to Kalice,
I haif into thy habeit maid gud cheir.
"In freiris weid full fairly haif I fleichit.
In it I haif in pulpet gon and preichit
In Derntoun kirk and eik in Canterberry;
In it I past at Dover our the ferry
Throw Piccardy, and thair the peple teichit.
"Als lang as I did beir the freiris style,
In me, God wait, wes mony wrink and wyle.
In me wes falset with every wicht to flatter,
Quhilk mycht be flemit with na haly watter.
I wes ay reddy all men to begyle."
This freir that did Sanct Francis thair appeir,
Ane fieind he wes in liknes of ane freir.
He vaneist away with stynk and fyrie smowk.
With him, me thocht, all the hous end he towk,
And I awoik as wy that wes in weir.
77. The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins
Of Februar the fyiftene nycht
Full lang befoir the dayis lycht
I lay in till a trance,
And than I saw baith Hevin and Hell.
Me thocht amangis the feyndis fell
Mahoun gart cry ane dance
Of schrewis that wer nevir schrevin
Aganis the feist of Fasternis Evin
To mak thair observance.
He bad gallandis ga graith a gyis
And kast up gamountis in the skyis
That last came out of France.
"Lat se," quod he, "now, quha begynnis?"
With that the fowll Sevin Deidly Synnis
Begowth to leip at anis.
And first of all in dance wes Pryd,
With hair wyld bak and bonet on syd,
Lyk to mak waistie wanis.
And round abowt him as a quheill
Hang all in rumpillis to the heill
His kethat for the nanis.
Mony prowd trumpour with him trippit,
Throw skaldand fyre ay as thay skippit
Thay gyrnd with hiddous granis.
Heilie harlottis on hawtane wyis
Come in with mony sindrie gyis,
Bot yit luche nevir Mahoun
Quhill preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis -
Than all the feyndis lewche and maid gekkis,
Blak Belly and Bawsy Broun.
Than Yre come in with sturt and stryfe,
His hand wes ay upoun his knyfe,
He brandeist lyk a beir.
Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris
Eftir him passit into pairis,
All bodin in feir of weir.
In jakkis and stryppis and bonettis of steill,
Thair leggis wer chenyeit to the heill,
Frawart wes thair affeir.
Sum upoun udir with brandis beft,
Sum jaggit uthiris to the heft
With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir.
Nixt in the dance followit Invy,
Fild full of feid and fellony,
Hid malyce and dispyte.
For pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit.
Him followit mony freik dissymlit
With fenyeit wirdis quhyte,
And flattereris into menis facis,
And bakbyttaris in secreit places
To ley that had delyte,
And rownaris of fals lesingis -
Allace, that courtis of noble kingis
Of thame can nevir be quyte.
Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce,
Rute of all evill and grund of vyce,
That nevir cowd be content.
Catyvis, wrechis, and ockeraris,
Hudpykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris
All with that warlo went.
Out of thair throttis thay schot on udder
Hett moltin gold, me thocht a fudder,
As fyreflawcht maist fervent.
Ay as thay tomit thame of schot,
Feyndis fild thame new up to the thrott
With gold of all kin prent.
Syne Sweirnes, at the secound bidding,
Come lyk a sow out of a midding,
Full slepy wes his grunyie.
Mony sweir, bumbard-belly huddroun,
Mony slute daw and slepy duddroun
Him servit ay with sounyie.
He drew thame furth in till a chenyie,
And Belliall with brydill renyie
Evir lascht thame on the lunyie.
In dance thay war so slaw of feit,
Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit
And maid thame quicker of counyie.
Than Lichery, that lathly cors,
Come berand lyk a bagit hors,
And Lythenes did him leid.
Thair wes with him ane ugly sort
And mony stynkand fowll tramort
That had in syn bene deid.
Quhen thay wer entrit in the dance,
Thay wer full strenge of countenance
Lyk turkas birnand reid.
All led thay uthir by the tersis.
Suppois thay fycket with thair ersis,
It mycht be na remeid.
Than the fowll monstir Glutteny,
Of wame unsasiable and gredy,
To dance he did him dres.
Him followit mony fowll drunckart
With can and collep, cop and quart,
In surffet and exces.
Full mony a waistles wallydrag
With wamis unweildable did furth wag
In creische that did incres.
"Drynk!" ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip.
The feyndis gaif thame hait leid to laip,
Thair lovery wes na les.
Na menstrallis playit to thame, but dowt,
For glemen thair wer haldin owt
Be day and eik by nycht,
Except a menstrall that slew a man,
Swa till his heretage he wan
And entirt be "breif of richt."
Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand padyane.
Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyane
Far northwart in a nuke.
Be he the correnoch had done schout
Erschemen so gadderit him abowt,
In Hell grit rowme thay tuke.
Thae tarmegantis, with tag and tatter,
Full lowd in Ersche begowth to clatter
And rowp lyk revin and ruke.
The Devill sa devit wes with thair yell
That in the depest pot of Hell
He smorit thame with smuke.
Nixt that a turnament wes tryid
That lang befoir in Hell wes cryid
In presens of Mahoun,
Betuix a telyour and ane sowtar,
A pricklous and ane hobbell clowttar,
The barres wes maid boun.
The tailyeour baith with speir and scheild
Convoyit wes unto the feild
With mony lymmar loun
Of seme-byttaris and beist knapparis,
Of stomok-steillaris and clayth-takkaris -
A graceles garisoun.
His baner born wes him befoir
Quhairin wes clowttis ane hundreth scoir,
Ilkane of divers hew,
And all stowin out of sindry webbis.
For quhill the Greik Sie fillis and ebbis,
Telyouris will nevir be trew.
The tailyour on the barrowis blent,
Allais, he tynt all hardyment,
For feir he chaingit hew.
Mahoun come furth and maid him knycht -
Na ferly thocht his hart wes licht
That to sic honor grew.
The tailyeour hecht hely befoir Mahoun
That he suld ding the sowtar doun,
Thocht he wer strang as mast.
Bot quhen he on the barrowis blenkit
The telyouris curage a littill schrenkit,
His hairt did all ourcast.
And quhen he saw the sowtar cum
Of all sic wirdis he wes full dum,
So soir he wes agast.
For he in hart tuke sic a scunner
Ane rak of fartis lyk ony thunner
Went fra him, blast for blast.
The sowtar to the feild him drest,
He wes convoyid out of the west
As ane defender stout.
Suppois he had na lusty varlot,
He had full mony lowsy harlott
Round rynnand him aboute.
His baner wes of barkit hyd
Quhairin Sanct Girnega did glyd
Befoir that rebald rowt.
Full sowttarlyk he wes of laitis,
For ay betuix the harnes plaitis
The uly birsit out.
Quhen on the talyeour he did luke,
His hairt a littill dwamyng tuke.
Uneis he mycht upsitt.
Into his stommok wes sic ane steir
Of all his dennar quhilk cost him deir,
His breist held never a bitt.
To comfort him or he raid forder,
The devill of knychtheid gaif him order,
For stynk than he did spitt.
And he about the devillis nek
Did spew agane ane quart of blek,
Thus knychtly he him quitt.
Than fourty tymis the feynd cryd, "Fy!"
The sowtar rycht effeiritly
Unto the feild he socht.
Quhen thay wer servit of thair speiris,
Folk had ane feill be thair effeiris,
Thair hairtis wer baith on flocht.
Thay spurrit thair hors on adir syd,
Syne thay attour the grund cowd glyd
Than tham togidder brocht.
The tailyeour was nocht weill sittin,
He left his sadall all beschittin
And to the grund he socht.
His birnes brak and maid ane brattill,
The sowtaris hors start with the rattill
And round about cowd reill.
The beist, that frayit wes rycht evill,
Ran with the sowtar to the Devill,
And he rewardit him weill.
Sumthing frome him the feynd eschewit,
He wend agane to bene bespewit,
So stern he wes in steill.
He thocht he wald agane debait him.
He turnd his ers and all bedret him
Quyte our from nek till heill.
He lowsit it of with sic a reird
Baith hors and man he straik till eird,
He fartit with sic ane feir.
"Now haif I quitt thee," quod Mahoun.
The new maid knycht lay into swoun
And did all armes forswer.
The Devill gart thame to dungeoun dryve
And thame of knychtheid cold depryve,
Dischairgeing thame of weir,
And maid thame harlottis bayth forevir,
Quhilk still to keip thay had fer levir
Nor ony armes beir.
I had mair of thair werkis writtin
Had nocht the sowtar bene beschittin
With Belliallis ers unblist.
Bot that sa gud ane bourd me thocht,
Sic solace to my hairt it rocht,
For lawchtir neir I brist,
Quhairthrow I walknit of my trance.
To put this in rememberance
Mycht no man me resist,
To dyte how all this thing befell
Befoir Mahoun, the air of Hell.
Schirris, trow it gif ye list!
78. Of the Tailors and the Shoemakers
[Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye]
Betuix twell houris and ellevin,
I dremed ane angell came fra hevin
With plesand stevin sayand on hie:
"Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"In Hevin hie ordand is your place
Aboif all sanctis in grit solace,
Nixt God grittest in dignitie:
Tailyouis and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"The caus to yow is nocht unkend;
That God mismakkis, ye do amend
Be craft and grit agilitie:
Tailyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"Sowtaris, with schone weill maid and meit
Ye mend the faltis of ill maid feit,
Quhairfoir to Hevin your saulis will fle:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"Is nocht in all this fair a flyrok
That hes upoun his feit a wyrok,
Knowll tais nor mowlis in no degrie,
Bot ye can hyd tham, blist be ye.
"And ye tailyouris, with weil maid clais
Can mend the werst maid man that gais
And mak him semely for to se:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"Thocht God mak ane misfassonit swayne,
Ye can him all schaip new agane
And fassoun him bettir be sic thre:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"Thocht a man haif a brokin bak,
Haif he a gud telyour, quhattrak,
That can it cuver with craftis slie:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"Of God grit kyndnes may ye clame
That helpis His peple fra cruke and lame,
Supportand faltis with your supplé:
Tailyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.
"In erd ye kyth sic mirakillis heir,
In hevin ye sal be sanctis full cleir,
Thocht ye be knavis in this cuntré:
Telyouris and sowataris, blist ye be."
79. The Devil's Inquest
[Renunce thy God and cum to me]
This nycht in my sleip I wes agast,
Me thocht the Devill wes tempand fast
The peple with aithis of crewaltie,
Sayand, as throw the mercat he past,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Me thocht as he went throw the way
Ane preist sweirit be God verey
Quhilk at the alter ressavit he.
"Thow art my clerk," the Devill can say,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Than swoir ane courtyour mekle of pryd
Be Chrystis windis, bludy and wyd,
And be His harmes wes rent on Tre.
Than spak the Devill hard him besyd,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane merchand his geir as he did sell
Renuncit his pairt of Hevin and Hell.
The Devill said, "Welcum mot thow be,
Thow sal be merchand for mysell.
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane goldsmyth said, "The gold is sa fyne
That all the workmanschip I tyne -
The Feind ressaif me gif I le."
"Think on," quod the Devill, "that thow art myne.
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane tailyour said, "In all this toun
Be thair ane better weilmaid goun,
I gif me to the Feynd all fre."
"Gramercy, telyour," said Mahoun,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane sowttar said, "In gud effek,
Nor I be hangit be the nek
Gife bettir butis of ledder ma be."
"Fy!" quod the Feynd, "thow sairis of blek.
Ga clenge thee clene and cum to me."
Ane baxstar sayd, "I forsaik God
And all His werkis, evin and od,
Gif fairar stuff neidis to be."
The Dyvill luche and on him cowth nod,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane fleschour swoir be the sacrament
And be Chrystis blud maist innocent,
Nevir fatter flesch saw man with e.
The Devill said, "Hald on thy intent;
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
The maltman sais, "I God forsaik,
And that the Devill of Hell me taik
Gif ony bettir malt may be,
And of this kill I haif inlaik."
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane browstar swoir, "The malt wes ill,
Bath reid and reikit on the kill
That it will be na aill for me.
Ane boll will nocht sex gallonis fill."
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
The smyth swoir, "Be rude and raip,
In till a gallowis mot I gaip
Gif I ten dayis wan pennyis thre,
For with that craft I can nocht thraip."
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane menstrall said, "The Feind me ryfe
Gif I do ocht bot drynk and swyfe."
The Devill said, "Hardly mot it be -
Exers that craft in all thy lyfe.
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane dysour said with wirdis of stryfe
The Devill mot stik him with a knyfe
Bot he kest up fair syisis thre.
The Devill said, "Endit is thy lyfe;
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
Ane theif said, "God, that evir I chaip,
Nor ane stark widdy gar me gaip
Bot I in Hell for geir wald be."
The Devill said, "Welcum in a raip;
Renunce thy God and cum to me."
The fische wyffis flett and swoir with granis
And to the Feind, saule, flesch, and banis
Thay gaif thame with ane schowt on hie.
The Devill said, "Welcum all att anis;
Renunce thy god and cum to me."
Me thocht the devillis als blak as pik
Solistand wer as beis thik,
Ay tempand folk with wayis sle,
Rownand to Robene and to Dik,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."
80. Master Andro Kennedy's Testament
I Maister Andro Kennedy
Curro quando sum vocatus.
Gottin with sum incuby
Or with sum freir infatuatus,
In faith I can nought tell redly
Unde aut ubi fui natus.
Bot in treuth I trow trewly
Quod sum dyabolus incarnatus.
Cum nichill sit cercius morte
We mon all de, man, that is done.
Nescimus quando vel qua sorte
Na Blind Allane wait of the mone.
Ego pacior in pectore,
This night I myght not sleip a wink.
Licet eger in corpore,
Yit wald my mouth be wet with drink.
Nunc condo testamentum meum.
I leiff my saull forevirmare,
Per omnipotentem Deum,
Into my lordis wyne cellar,
Semper ibi ad remanendum
Quhill Domisday, without dissever,
Bonum vinum ad bibendum
With sueit Cuthbert that luffit me nevir.
Ipse est dulcis ad amandum.
He wald oft ban me in his breith,
Det michi modo ad potandum,
And I forgif him laith and wraith,
Quia in cellario cum cervisia
I had lever lye, baith air and lait,
Nudus solus in camesia
Na in my lordis bed of stait.
A barell bung ay at my bosum,
Of warldis gud I bad na mair.
Corpus meum ebriosum
I leif onto the toune of Air,
In a draf mydding forevir and ay,
Ut ibi sepeliri queam,
Quhar drink and draff may ilka day
Be cassyne super faciem meam.
I leif my hert that nevir wes sicir
Sed semper variabile,
That nevirmare wald flow nor flicir
Consorti meo Jacobe.
Thought I wald bynd it with a wicir
Verum deum renui.
Bot and I hecht to teme a bicker
Hoc pactum semper tenui.
Syne leif I the best aucht I bocht
(Quod es Latinum propter "caupe")
To hede of kyn; bot I wait nought
Quis est ille, than I schrew my scawpe.
I callit my lord my heid, but hiddill,
Sed nulli alii hoc dixerunt.
We weir als sib as seve and riddill,
In una silva que creverunt.
Omnia mea solacia
(Thai wer bot lesingis, all and ane)
Cum omni fraude et fallacia
I leif the maister of Sanct Antane,
Willelmo Gray, sine gratia,
Myne awne deir cusing, as I wene,
Qui nunquam fabricat mendatia
Bot quhen the holyne growis grene.
My fenyening and my fals wynyng
Relinquo falsis fratribus,
For that is Goddis awne bidding:
Dispersit, dedit pauperibus.
For menis saulis thai say thai sing,
Mencientes pro muneribus.
Now God gif thaim ane evill ending
Pro suis pravis operibus.
To Jok Fule my foly fre
Lego post corpus sepultum.
In faith, I am mair fule than he,
Licet ostendit bonum vultum.
Of corne and catall, gold and fe
Ipse habet walde multum,
And yit he bleris my lordis e
Fingendo eum fore stultum.
To master Johne Clerk syne
Do et lego intime
Goddis malisone and myne.
Ipse est causa mortis mee.
War I a dog and he a swyne
Multi mirantur super me,
Bot I suld ger that lurdane quhryne
Scribendo dentes sine de.
Residuum omnium bonorum
For to dispone my lord sall haif,
Cum tutela puerorum -
Ade, Kytte, and all the laif.
In faith, I will na langar raif.
Pro sepultura ordino
On the new gys, sa God me saif,
Non sicut more solito.
In die mee sepulture
I will nane haif bot our aune gyng,
Et duos rusticos de rure
Berand a barell on a styng,
Drynkand and playand cop out evin,
Sicut ego met solebam.
Singand and gretand with hie stevin,
Potum meum cum fletu miscebam.
I will na preistis for me sing
Dies illa, dies ire,
Na yit na bellis for me ring,
Sicut semper solet fieri,
Bot a bag pipe to play a spryng
Et unum ail wosp ante me;
Instayd of baneris for to bring
Quatuor lagenas cervisie,
Within the graif to set sic thing
In modum Crucis juxta me,
To fle the fendis, than hardely sing
De terra plasmasti me.
81. Dunbar's Dirge
We that ar heir in hevynnis glorie
To you that ar in purgatorie
Commendis us on hartlie wys -
I mene we folk of paradys
In Edinburgh with all merynes -
To yow at Striveling in distres,
Quhair nowdir plesour nor delyt is,
For pietie this epistell wrytis.
O ye heremytis and ankirsadillis
That takkis your pennance at your tabillis
And eitis no meit restorative
Nor drinkis no wyne confortative
Nor aill, bot that is thin and small,
With few coursis into your hall,
But cumpany of lordis and knychtis
Or ony uther gudlie wychtis,
Solitar walking your alone,
Seing nothing bot stok and stone;
Out of your panefull purgatorie
To bring yow to the blys and glorie
Of Edinburcht, the myrrie town,
We sall begin ane cairfull sown,
Ane dirige devoit and meik,
The Lord of blys doing beseik
Yow to delyver out of your noy
And bring yow sone to Edinburgh joy,
For to be merye amangis us.
The dirige begynnis thus:
Lectio prima
The Fader, the Sone, the Holie Gaist,
The blissit Marie, virgen chaist,
Of angellis all the ordour nyne,
And all the hevinlie court divyne
Sone bring yow fra the pyne and wo
Of Striveling, everie court manis foo,
Agane to Edinburchtis joy and blys,
Quhair wirschip, welthe, and weilfair is,
Play, plesance eik, and honestie.
Say ye amen, for chirritie.
Tu autem, Domine.
Responsio
Tak consolatioun in your payne,
In tribulatioun tak consolatioun,
Out of vexatioun cum hame agayne,
Tak consolatioun in your payne.
Iube, Domine, etc.
Out of distres of Stirling town
To Edinburgh blys God mak you bown.
Lectio secunda
Patriarchis, prophetis, apostillis deir,
Confessouris, virgynis, and martyris cleir,
And all the saitt celestiall,
Devoitlie we upone thame call
That sone out of your paynis fell
Ye may in hevin heir with us duell
To eit swan, cran, peirtrik, and pluver,
And everie fische that swowmis in rever;
To drink withe us the new fresche wyne
That grew apone the revar of Ryne,
Fresche fragrant claretis out of France,
Of Angeo and of Orliance,
With mony ane cours of grit daynté.
Say ye amen, for chirrité.
Tu autem, Domine.
Responsio
God and Sanct Geill heir yow convoy,
Baythe sone and weill, God and Sanct Geill,
To sonce and seill, solace and joy,
God and Sanct Geill heir yow convoy.
Iube, Domine.
Out of Stirling paynis fell
In Edinburgh joy sone mot ye dwell.
Lectio tertia
We pray to all the sanctis in Hevin
That ar abuif the sternis sevin,
Yow to delyver out of your pennance,
That ye may sone play, sing, and dance
And into Edinburgh mak gud cheir
Quhair welthe and weilfair is, but weir.
And I that dois your paynis discryve
Thinkis for to visie you belyve,
Nocht in desert with yow to duell,
Bot as the angell Gabriell
Dois go betweyne fra Hevynis glorie
To thame that ar in Purgatorie,
And in thair tribulatioun
To gif thame consolatioun,
And schaw thame quhone thair pane is past
Thay sall to Hevin cum at the last,
And how nane servis to have sweitnes
That never taistit bittirnes.
And thairfoir how sould ye considdir
Of Edinburgh blys quhone ye cum hiddir,
Bot gif ye taistit had befoir
Of Stirling toun the paynis soir?
And thairfoir tak in patience
Your pennance and your abstinence,
And ye sall cum or Yule begyn
Into the blys that we ar in,
Quhilk grant the glorious Trinité.
Say ye amen, for chirrité.
Tu autem, Domine.
Responsio
Cum hame and duell no mair in Stirling,
Fra hyddows hell cum hame and duell,
Quhair fische to sell is nane bot spyrling,
Cum hame and duell na mair in Stirling.
Iube, Domine.
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem de Stirling
Sed libera nos a malo eiusdem.
Requiem Edinburgi dona eis, Domine,
Et lux ipsius luceat eis.
A porta tristitiae de Stirling
Erue, Domine, animas et corpora eorum.
Credo gustare vinum Edinburgi
In villa viventium.
Requiescant statim in Edinburgo. Amen.
Domine, exaudi orationem meam
Et clamor meus ad te veniat.
Oremus.
Deus qui iustos et corde humiles ex eorum tribulatione
liberare dignatus es: libera famulos tuos apud villam
de Stirling versantes a penis et tristitiis eiusdem, et ad
Edinburgi gaudia feliciter perducas. Amen.13
82. The Twa Cummars
[This lang Lentrin it makis me lene]
Richt arely one Ask Wedinsday
Drinkande the wyne sat cummaris tua.
The tane couthe to the tothir complene,
Granand ande suppand couth sche say:
"This lang Lentrin it makis me lene."
One couch befor the fyir sche sat.
God wait gif sche was gret and fat,
Yet to be feble sche did hir fene,
Ay sche said, "Cummar, lat preif of that:
This lang Lentrin makis me lene."
"My fair suet cummar," quod the tothir,
"Ye tak that megirnes of your modir.
Ale wyne to tast sche wald disdene
Bot malwasy, and nay drink uthir:
This lang Lentryn it makis me lene."
"Cummar, be glaid baith evin and morrow,
The gud quharevere ye beg or borrow.14
Fra our lang fasting youe refrene
And lat your husband dre the sorrow.
This lang Lentryn it makis me lene."
"Your counsaile, commar, is gud," quod scho.
"Ale is to tene him that I do;
In bed he is nocht wortht ane bane.
File anis the glas and drink me to:
This lang Lentryn it makis me lene."
Of wyne out of ane chopin stoip
Thai drank tua quartis, bot soip and soip,
Of droucht sic axis did thame strene,
Be thane to mend thai hed gud hoip,
That lang Lentrin suld nocht mak thaim lene.
83. The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy
"Schir Johine the Ros, ane thing thair is compild
In generale be Kennedy and Quinting,
Quhilk hes thameself aboif the sternis styld.
Bot had thay maid of mannace ony mynting
In speciall, sic stryfe sould rys but stynting;
Howbeit with bost thair breistis wer als bendit
As Lucifer that fra the hevin discendit,
Hell sould nocht hyd thair harnis fra harmis hynting.
The erd sould trymbill, the firmament sould schaik,
And all the air in vennaum suddane stink,
And all the divillis of Hell for redour quaik,
To heir quhat I suld wryt with pen and ynk;
For and I flyt, sum sege for schame sould sink,
The se sould birn, the mone sould thoill ecclippis,
Rochis sould ryfe, the warld sould hald no grippis,
Sa loud of cair the commoun bell sould clynk.
Bot wondir laith wer I to be ane baird.
Flyting to use richt gritly I eschame,
For it is nowthir wynnyng nor rewaird,
Bot tinsale baith of honour and of fame,
Incres of sorrow, sklander, and evill name.
Yit mycht thay be sa bald in thair bakbytting
To gar me ryme and rais the feynd with flytting
And throw all cuntreis and kinrikis thame proclame."
Quod Dumbar to Kennedy
"Dirtin Dumbar, quhome on blawis thow thy boist,
Pretendand thee to wryte sic skaldit skrowis,
Ramowd rebald, thow fall doun att the roist
My laureat lettres at thee and I lowis.
Mandrag mymmerkin, maid maister bot in mows,
Thrys scheild trumpir with ane threidbair goun,
Say 'Deo mercy' or I cry thee doun,
And leif thy ryming, rebald, and thy rowis.
"Dreid, dirtfast dearch, that thow hes dissobeyit
My cousing Quintene and my commissar.
Fantastik fule, trest weill thow sal be fleyit.
Ignorant elf, aip, owll irregular,
Skaldit skaitbird and commoun skamelar,
Wanfukkit funling that Natour maid ane yrle,
Baith Johine the Ros and thow sall squeill and skirle
And evir I heir ocht of your making mair.
"Heir I put sylence to thee in all pairtis.
Obey and ceis the play that thow pretendis,
Waik walidrag and werlot of the cairtis;
Se sone thow mak my commissar amendis,
And lat him lay sax leichis on thy lendis
Meikly in recompansing of thi scorne,
Or thow sall ban the tyme that thow wes borne:
For Kennedy to thee this cedull sendis."
Quod Kennedy to Dumbar
Juge in the nixt quha gat the war
"Iersche brybour baird, vyle beggar with thy brattis,
Cuntbittin crawdoun Kennedy, coward of kynd,
Evill-farit and dryit as Denseman on the rattis,
Lyk as the gleddis had on thy gulesnowt dynd,
Mismaid monstour, ilk mone owt of thy mynd,
Renunce, rebald, thy rymyng, thow bot royis.
Thy trechour tung hes tane ane Heland strynd,
Ane Lawland ers wald mak a bettir noyis.
"Revin raggit ruke, and full of rebaldrie,
Skitterand scorpioun, scauld in scurrilitie,
I se the haltane in thy harlotrie
And into uthir science nothing slie,
Of every vertew voyd, as men may sie.
Quytclame clergie and cleik to thee ane club,
Ane baird blasphemar in brybrie ay to be,
For wit and woisdome ane wisp fra thee may rub.
"Thow speiris, dastard, gif I dar with thee fecht.
Ye, Dagone dowbart, thairof haif thow no dowt.
Quhairevir we meit, thairto my hand I hecht,
To red thy rebald rymyng with a rowt.
Throw all Bretane it sal be blawin owt,
How that thow, poysonit pelour, gat thy paikis.
With ane doig leich I schepe to gar thee schowt
And nowther to thee tak knyfe, swerd, nor aix.
"Thow crop and rute of tratouris tressonable,
The fathir and moder of morthour and mischeif,
Dissaitfull tyrand with serpentis tung unstable,
Cukcald, cradoun cowart, and commoun theif,
Thow purpest for to undo our lordis chief
In Paislay with ane poysone that wes fell,
For quhilk, brybour, yit sall thow thoill a breif.
Pelour, on thee I sall it preif mysell.
"Thocht I wald lie, thy frawart phisnomy
Dois manifest thy malice to all men.
Fy, tratour theif, fy, glengoir loun, fy, fy!
Fy, feyndly front far fowlar than ane fen,
My freyindis thow reprovit with thy pen.
Thow leis, tratour, quhilk I sall on thee preif,
Suppois thy heid war armit tymis ten,
Thow sall recry it, or thy croun sall cleif.
"Or thow durst move thy mynd malitius,
Thow saw the saill abone my heid up draw.
Bot Eolus, full woid, and Neptunus,
Mirk and moneles us met with wind and waw,
And mony hundreth myll hyne cowd us blaw,
By Holland, Seland, Yetland, and Northway coist,
In sey desert quhair we wer famist aw.
Yit come I hame, fals baird, to lay thy boist.
"Thow callis thee rethore with thy goldin lippis.
Na, glowrand gaipand fule, thow art begyld.
Thow art bot gluntoch, with thy giltin hippis,
That for thy lounry mony a leisch hes fyld.
Wan-visaged widdefow, out of thy wit gane wyld,
Laithly and lowsy, als lauchtane as ane leik,
Sen thow with wirschep wald sa fane be styld,
Haill, soverane senyeour, thy bawis hingis throw thy breik.15
"Forworthin fule, of all the warld reffuse,
Quhat ferly is thocht thow rejoys to flyte?
Sic eloquence as thay in Erschry use,
In sic is sett thy thraward appetyte.
Thow hes full littill feill of fair indyte.
I tak on me ane pair of Lowthiane hippis
Sall fairar Inglis mak and mair parfyte
Than thow can blabbar with thy Carrik lippis.
"Bettir thow ganis to leid ane doig to skomer,
Pynit pykpuris pelour, than with thy maister pingill.
Thow lay full prydles in the peis this somer
And fane at evin for to bring hame a single,
Syne rubb it at aneuther auld wyvis ingle.
Bot now in winter for purteth thow art traikit,
Thow hes na breik to latt thy bellokis gyngill,
Beg thee ane bratt, for baird, thow sall go naikit.
"Lene, larbar loungeour, lowsy in lisk and longe,16
Fy, skolderit skyn, thow art bot skyre and skrumple:
For he that rostit Lawrance had thy grunye,
And he that hid Sanct Johnis ene with ane wimple,
And he that dang Sanct Augustyne with ane rumple
Thy fowll front had, and he that Bartilmo flaid.
The gallowis gaipis eftir thy graceles gruntill,
As thow wald for ane haggeis, hungry gled.
"Cummerwarld crawdoun, na man comptis thee ane kers.17
Sueir swappit swanky, swynekeper ay for swaittis,
Thy commissar, Quintyne, biddis thee cum kis his ers.
He luvis nocht sic ane forlane loun of laittis,
He sayis thow skaffis and beggis mair beir and aitis
Nor ony cripill in Karrik land abowt.
Uther pure beggaris and thow for wage debaittis,
Decrepit karlingis on Kennedy cryis owt.
"Mater annwche I haif, I bid not fenyie,
Thocht thow, fowll trumpour, thus upoun me leid.
Corrupt carioun, he sall I cry my senyie.
Thinkis thow nocht how thow come in grit neid,
Greitand in Galloway lyk to ane gallow breid,
Ramand and rolpand, beggand koy and ox.
I saw thee thair into thy wathemanis weid,
Quhilk wes nocht worth ane pair of auld gray sox.
"Ersch katherene, with thy polk breik and rilling,
Thow and thy quene as gredy gleddis ye gang
With polkis to mylne and beggis baith meill and schilling.
Thair is bot lys and lang nailis yow amang,
Fowll heggirbald, for henis thus will ye hang.
Thow hes ane perrellus face to play with lambis.
Ane thowsand kiddis, wer thay in faldis full strang,
Thy lymmair luke wald fle thame and thair damis.
"Intill ane glen thow hes, owt of repair,
Ane laithly luge that wes the lippir menis.
With thee ane sowtaris wyfe of blis als bair,
And lyk twa stalkaris steilis in cokis and henis.
Thow plukkis the pultré and scho pullis of the penis.
All Karrik cryis, 'God gif this dowsy be drownd!'
And quhen thow heiris ane guse cry in the glenis,
Thow thinkis it swetar than sacryne bell of sound.
"Thow Lazarus, thow laithly lene tramort,
To all the warld thow may example be,
To luk upoun thy gryslie, peteous port;
For hiddowis, haw, and holkit is thyne ee,
Thy cheikbane bair and blaiknit is thy ble.
Thy choip, thy choll garris men for to leif chest;
Thy gane, it garris us think that we mon de.
I conjure thee, thow hungert Heland gaist.
"The larbar linkis of thy lang lenye craig,
Thy pure pynit thrott, peilit and owt of ply,
Thy skolderit skin, hewd lyk ane saffrone bag,
Garris men dispyt thar flesche, thow spreit of Gy.
Fy, feyndly front, fy, tykis face, fy, fy!
Ay loungand lyk ane loikman on ane ledder
With hingit luik, ay wallowand upone wry,
Lyk to ane stark theif glowrand in ane tedder.
"Nyse nagus nipcaik with thy schulderis narrow,
Thow lukis lowsy, loun of lounis aw,
Hard hurcheoun hirpland, hippit as ane harrow,
Thy rigbane rattillis and thy ribbis on raw,
Thy hanchis hirklis with hukebanis harth and haw,
Thy laithly lymis ar lene as ony treis.
Obey, theif baird, or I sall brek thy gaw.
Fowll carrybald, cry mercy on thy kneis.
"Thow pure, pynhippit, ugly averill
With hurkland banis holkand throw thy hyd,
Reistit and crynit as hangit man on hill,
And oft beswakkit with ane ourhie tyd
Quhilk brewis mekle barret to thy bryd.
Hir cair is all to clenge thy cabroch howis,
Quhair thow lyis sawsy in saphron, bak and syd,
Powderit with prymros, savrand all with clowis.
"Forworthin wirling, I warne thee, it is wittin
How, skyttand skarth, thow hes the hurle behind.
Wan wraiglane wasp, ma wormis hes thow beschittin
Nor thair is gers on grund or leif on lind.
Thocht thow did first sic foly to me fynd,
Thow sall agane with ma witnes than I.
Thy gulsoch gane dois on thy bak it bind,
Thy hostand hippis lattis nevir thy hos go dry.
"Thow held the burch lang with ane borrowit goun
And ane caprowsy barkit all with sweit,
And quhen the laidis saw thee sa lyk a loun,
Thay bickerit thee with mony bae and bleit.
Now upaland thow leivis on rubbit quheit,
Oft for ane caus thy burdclaith neidis no spredding
For thow hes nowthir for to drink nor eit,
Bot lyk ane berdles baird that had no bedding.
"Strait Gibbonis air, that nevir ourstred ane hors,
Bla, berfute berne, in bair tyme wes thow borne.
Thow bringis the Carrik clay to Edinburgh Cors,
Upoun thy botingis hobland, hard as horne.
Stra wispis hingis owt quhair that the wattis ar worne.
Cum thow agane to skar us with thy strais,
We sall gar scale our sculis all thee to scorne
And stane thee up the calsay quhair thow gais.
"Of Edinburch the boyis as beis owt thrawis
And cryis owt, 'Hay, heir cumis our awin queir clerk!'
Than fleis thow lyk ane howlat chest with crawis
Quhill all the bichis at thy botingis dois bark.
Than carlingis cryis, 'Keip curches in the merk -
Our gallowis gaipis - lo, quhair ane greceles gais!'18
Aneuthir sayis, 'I se him want ane sark -
I reid yow, cummer, tak in your lynning clais.'
"Than rynis thow doun the gait with gild of boyis
And all the toun tykis hingand in thy heilis.
Of laidis and lownis thair rysis sic ane noyis
Quhill runsyis rynis away with cairt and quheilis
And cager aviris castis bayth coillis and creilis
For rerd of thee and rattling of thy butis.
Fische wyvis cryis 'Fy!' and castis doun skillis and skeilis,
Sum claschis thee, sum cloddis thee on the cutis.
"Loun lyk Mahoun, be boun me till obey,
Theif, or in greif mischeif sall thee betyd.
Cry grace, tykis-face, or I thee chece and fley,
Oule, rare and yowle, I sall defowll thy pryd,
Peilit gled, baith fed and bred of bichis syd
And lyk ane tyk, purspyk, quhat man settis by thee!
Forflittin, countbittin, beschittin, barkit hyd,
Clym ledder, fyle tedder, foule edder, I defy thee!19
"Mauch muttoun, byt buttoun, peilit gluttoun, air to Hilhous,
Rank beggar, ostir dregar, flay fleggar in the flet.20
Chittirlilling, ruch rilling, lik schilling in the milhous,
Baird rehator, theif of nator, fals tratour, feyindis gett,21
Filling of tauch, rak sauch - cry crauch, thow art oursett!
Muttoun dryver, girnall ryver, yadswyvar, fowll fell thee!22
Herretyk, lunatyk, purspyk, carlingis pet,
Rottin crok, dirtin dok - cry cok, or I sall quell thee!"
Quod Dumbar to Kennedy
"Dathane, deivillis sone, and dragone dispitous,
Abironis birth and bred with Beliall,
Wod werwoif, worme, and scorpion vennemous,
Lucifers laid, fowll feyindis face infernall,
Sodomyt syphareit fra sanctis celestiall,
Put I nocht sylence to thee, schiphird knaif?
And thow of new begynis to ryme and raif.
Thow sal be maid blait, bleir eit bestiall.
"How thy forbear is come I haif a feill:
At Cokburnispeth, the writ makis me war,
Generit betuix ane scho-beir and a deill,
Sa wes he callit Dewlbeir and nocht Dumbar.
This Dewlbeir, generit on a meir of Mar,
Wes Corspatrik, erle of Merche, and be illusioun.
The first that evir put Scotland to confusioun
Wes that fals tratour, hardely say I dar.
"Quhen Bruce and Balioll differit for the croun,
Scottis lordis could nocht obey Inglis lawis.
This Corspatrik betrasit Berwik toun
And slew sevin thousand Scottismen within thay wawis.
The battall syne of Spottismuir he gart caus,
And come with Edwart Langschankis to the field
Quhair twelf thowsand trew Scottismen wer keild
And Wallace chest, as the carnicle schawis.
"Scottis lordis chiftanis he gart hald and chessone
In firmance fast quhill all the feild wes done,
Within Dumbar, that auld spelunk of tressoun.
Sa Inglis tykis in Scottland wes abone.
Than spulye |