PARSON

Ȝese the King is ȝit effeminate, And gydit be Dame Sensuality, Right sa with young counsel intoxicate, Swa at this time ȝe have ȝour liberty. To taken ȝour time I hauld it best for me, And go destroy all their Lutherians: In special ȝon lady Verity, Lusty Lady we walled feign understand, Quhat earand ȝe have in this Region? To preich or teich quha gaif to ȝow command, To counsel Kings how got ȝe commission? I dreid without ȝe get ane remission, And sin renounce ȝour new opiniones The spiritual stait shall put ȝow to perdition And in the fire will burn ȝow flesh and bones. Pass hame among the Nunnis and dwell, Quhilks ar of Chastity the well: I traist they will with Buik and bell, Ressaue ȝow in their Cloister. Quhat devil raks the of our preaching vndocht? Trowis thou to get remeid carl of that thing? Walled thou of Prelates make deprivation? Cum down dastart and gang fell draiff, I understand nought quhat thou said. Thy words war nather corn nor caiff, I walled thy tongue again war laid Where thou says pride is deadly sin, I say pride is bot honesty. And Covetice of World win Is bot wisdom, I say for me. Ire, hardiness and gluttony, Is nathing else but lyfis fude: The natural sin of lechery Is bot true luife, all their ar Good. Bot war they sin I understand, We men of Kirk walled never use them. Give with our labour we man us defend, Then let us gang where we war never kenned. Thou lies falls huirsun raggit loun, Their is nam Priests in all this town, That ever used sic vicious crafts. Falls huirsun carl I say that law is Good, Because it hes be Long our consuetude: To speak of Priests be sure it is nam bourds: They will burn men now for rakles words, And all they words ar herisie in dead, Quhat cause hes thou falls pellour for to plain ȝe Where was ȝe ever summoned to their seinȝe? Now walloway thinks thou nam shame to lie [] I trow the Devil a word is true thou says: Thou says their is bot twa steppis to the heavin Quha failȝeis them man backwarts fallen in hell, I wait it is ten thousand mylis and sevin Give it be nam More, I do it upon thy fell. Short leggit men I see be Bryds bell, Will never cum their, they steppis be sa wide: Give they be the words of the Evangel, The Spiritual men hes mister of ane guide. Thought I preich not I can play at the caiche: I wait their is nought ane among ȝow all, More ferilie can play at the fut ball: And for the carts the tabils and the dice, Above all Persons I may beir the prise. Our round bonats we make them now four nuickit Of riched fine stuiff give ȝow list cum and luikit. Of my office I have declared to the, Speir quhat ȝe pleis, ȝe get nam More of me. The Devil make cair for this unhappy chance, For I am young and thinks to pass to France. And taken wages among the men of weir, And win my living with my sword and speir.