V. III. Though all the werk1 that ever had livand No man has courage for to write, Their kindness' is so contrar clean :2 Now comis age where youth has been, June;" "Into That ye have neither wit nor will, To win yourself a better name! VII. Your burgh of beggars is ane nest, That for the poor has nothing drest,3 VIII. Your profit daily does increase, gress For cry of crooked,4 blind, and lame; That ye sic substance does possess, IX. Cunninger men maun serve saint clown, 10 Sen for the Court and the Session,5 And never to other craftis claim; Think ye not shame, To hold sic mowaris11 on the moon, In hurt and slander of your name! The great repair of this region Gif they pass to ane other town Therefore strangers and lieges treat, Keep order, and poor neighbours beit, That ye may get a better name! TO THE KING. THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE, AULD DUNBAR. Now lovers come with largess1 loud, Why should not palfreys then be proud, When gillets will be schomd and schroud,3 That ridden are baith with lord and lad? Sir, let it never in town be tald, When I was young and into ply,5 Sir, let it never in town be tald, With gentle horse when I wald nip, Though in the stall I be not clapped, Sir, let it never in town be tald, |