FALSET

—Uva sair the Devil Quha is that that cryis for mesa fast Now welcome be the Trinity This meitting cums for Good Now let me bresse the my armis, When Friends meits hearts warmis: Quod Iok that freely fud: How happinit ȝow into this place? I left him drinkand in the town, He will be heir incontinent. Marry to seek King Humanity. Quhat is thy counsel that we do? Marry sirs this is my counsel lo, Till taken our time quhill we may get it, For now thait is nam man to let it: From time the King begin to steir him, Marry Good counsel I dreid cum neir him, And be we knaw in with Correction. It will be our confusion: Therefore my deir brother devise To find sum toy of the new gise. And sa shall I man be the Rude, Now sum Good fallow len me ane hude. And give my hair war up in ane how, The fiend ane man walled ken me I trow: Quhat says thou of my gay garmoun Now gang thy way where ever thou will, Thou may be fallow to freir Gill: Bot with Correction give we be kenned, I dreid we make ane shameful end. We man do More ȝit be Sanct James, For we mon all thrie change our names Hayif me, and Isall baptise thee: I wait not how to call my fell. Discretion, Discretion in Gods name. I give ȝow all the Deuilis of hell, Bot ȝit anis name the bairns name. Dissait Sapience in ane warlds-schame. Marry sir they call me, quhat call they me? I kenned it when I cam From hame. Marry they call me thin-drink I trow? Sypeins, sir sypeins, marry now ȝe hit it. That same is it be Sanct Michell I pray ȝour grace appardoun me, And I shall schaw the verity: I am sa full of Sapience, That sometime I will taken ane trance. My spreit was reft From my body, Now heich above the Trinity. Sir ȝe may ken that be my hude. And I have great intelligence In quelling of the quintessence: Bot to preif my experience, Sir len me forty crowns: To make multiplication, And taken my obligation, Gifwee make falls narration, Hauld us for very lowness. Sir thank the holy Trinity: That send us to ȝour company: For God nor I gaip in ane gallows, Give ever ȝe Found thrie better fallows. Quhat says thou carl, ar thou Gude-counsell? Swyith pak the soon unhappy sell. Give ever thou cum this gait again, I vow to God thou shall be slain. Sa shall we thine with all our hearts. Bot haist us quhill the King is young, Let every man keip well ane tongue. And in ilk quarter have ane spy, Us till adverteis haistelly, When any casualties, Shall happin into our countries, And let us make provision, Or he cum to discretion Nam More he waits now nor ane sant, Quhat thing it is to have or want, Or he cum till his perfect age, We shall be sikker of our wage: And then let every carl craif uther. That will we nought ȝit be Sanct Bride Bot we shall ather gang or ride, To Lords of Spritualitie, And gar them trow ȝon bag ofpryde, Hes spokin manifest heresy. Nam cuir thou nought man for my thrift Trows thou that I be daft: Nam I will leif ane lusty life Withoutin any sturt and strife Among the men of craft. Now well said be the Sacrament, I shall it steill incontinent Thought it had twenty lox. Heir shall Falset steill the Kings Box with silence. Lo heir the Box now let us Gam, This may suffice for our rewairds: Right well deuysit man be Sanct Blais, Walled God we war out of this place. Trows thou to get also mekill as I That shall thou nought, I staw the Box: Thou did nathing bot luikit by. Ay lurk and like ane wily Fox. Alace for ever my eye is out, Walloway will nam man read the men? Allace, man I be hangit to? Quhat mekill Devil is this ado? How came I to this cummer? My Good masters ȝe crafts men, Want ȝe Falset full well I ken, Ȝe will all die for hunger. Ȝe men of craft may cry allace, When ȝe want me ȝe want ȝour grace: Therefore put into write: My lessons that I did ȝow leir, Howbeit the commons eyes ȝe bleir, Count ȝe nought that ane myte. Find me ane Wobster that is leill, Orane Walker that will nought steill, Their craftiness I ken: Or ane Millair, that is nam fault, That will nather steill meall nor malt, Hauld them for holy men. At our fleschers taken ȝe nam grief, Thought they blaw lean mutton and beife, That they seime fat and fair: They think that practic bot ane mow, Howbeit the Devil a thing it dow, To Thames I leirit that lair. I leirit Tailȝeours in every town, To schaip five quarters in ane Gone, In Angus and in Fyfe: To uplands Tailȝeours I gave Good leife, To steill ane silly stump or sleife, Unto kittok his wife. My Good master Andro Fortune, Of Tailȝeours that may weir the crown, For me he will be mangit: Tailȝeour Baberage my soon and air, I wait for me will rudely rair, From time he see me hangit. The barfit Deacon Iamie Ralph, Quha never ȝit bocht kow nor calf, Because he can nought steall: Willy Cadȝeoch will make nam plead, Howbeit his wife want beife and bred, Get he Good barmy aill. To the brousters of Cowper town, I leife my braidblack malesoun, Also hardy as I may: To make thin aill they think nam fault, Of mekill barm and little malt, Again the market day. And they can make withoutin doubt, Ane kind of aill they call Harns-out, Wait ȝe how they make that? Ane curtill queine ane laidly lurdane, Of strange wesche scho will taken ane iurdane, And sets in the gyle-fat. Quha drinks of that aill, man or page It will gar all his harnis rage, That iurdane I may rew: It gart my heid rin hiddy giddy, Sirs God nor I die in ane widdy, Give this taill be nought true. Speir at the Sowtar Geordie Silly, From time that he had filled his belly, With this vnhelthsum aill: Than all the Baxte's will I ban, That mixes bred with dust and bran, And fine flour with beir maill. Adieu my masters Wrichts and Maissouns, I have neid to leir ȝow few lessons, Ȝe knaw my craft perqueir: Adieu blak-Smythis and Lorimers, Adieu ȝe crafty Cordiners, That sellis the schone over deir Gold Smythis fair-weill above them all, Remember my memorial, With money ane sittill cast: To mix set ȝe nought by twa preinis Fine Ducat gold with hard Gudlingis, Like as I leirnit ȝow last. When I was ludgit vpaland, The Schiphirds maid with me ane band, Riched craftily to steill: Than did I give ane confirmation, To all the Schiphirdis of this Nation, That they should never be leill. And ilk ane to reser ane uther, I knaw falls Schiphirds fifty fidder, War their canteleinis kenned: How they make in their conventiouns, On montans far From any towns, To let them never mend. Among crafts men it is ane wonder, To find ten leill among ane hunder The truth I to ȝow tell: Adieu I may nam langer tarry, I man pass to the King of Fairy, Or else the right to hell Ways me for the Good common thift, Was never man maid ane More honest schift, His leifing for to win: Their was nought ane in all Lidsdaill, That ky More crastelie could staill, Where thou hings on that pin. Satan ressaue thy saull Dissait, Thou was to me ane faithful mait, Andals my father brother: Duill fell the silly merchant men, To make them service well I ken, Thaill never get sic ane uther. Give any man list for to be my mait, Cum follow me for I am at the gait: Cum follow me all catyfe covetous Kings, Reavers but riched of uthers Realms and Rings. Together with all wrangous conquerors. And bring with ȝow all public oppressors'. With Pharao King of Egyptians With him in hell salbe ȝour recompense. All cruel schedders of Blood innocent, Cum follow me or else rin and repent Prelates that hes ma benefits nor thrie, And will nought teich nor preiche the verity Without at God in time they cry for grace, In hideous hell I shall prepair their place. Cum follow me all falls corruptit Judges, With Pontius Pilot I shall prepair ȝour Judges All ȝe officials that parts men with their wyfis, Cum follow me or else gang mend ȝour lyfis: With all falls leiders of the constry law, With wanton Scribs and Clark's until ane raw. That to the puir makes money partial train, Sin hodie and octo bids them cum again. And ȝe that takes rewairds at baith the hands, Ȝe shall with me be bund in Baliels bans. Cum follow me all cursed unhappy wyfis, That with ȝour gudemen daily flytis and stryfis, And quietly with rybalds makes repair, And takes nam cure to make ane wrangous air. Ȝe sal in hell rewairdit be I wein, With Jezabel of Israel the Queen. I have ane cursed unhappy wife my fell, Walled God scho war before me into hell: That Bismair war scho their withoutin doubt, Out of hell the Devil scho walled ding out. Ȝe married men evin as ȝe luife ȝour lyfis, Let never priests be hamely with ȝour wyfis. My wife with priests sho doth me great onricht And maid me nine times cuckald on ane Night. Fairweil for I am to the widdy weened, For quhy falset maid never ane better end. How chaipit ȝe I pray ȝow tell? Ȝe hardly Sir, keip ȝow in clois And Quiet till we cum again: Brother I trow be coks toes, Ȝon bairdit bogill cums From ane train.