BALLAD OF KYND KITTOK.
My Gudame wes a gay wife, bot scho wes rycht gend,
Scho duelt furth fer in to France, apon Falkland fell;
Thay callit her Kynd Kittok, quha sa hir weill kend:
Scho wes like a caldrone cruke cler under kell;
Thay threpit that scho deit of thrist, and maid a gud end. 5
Efter hir dede, scho dredit nought in hevin for to duell;
And sa to hevin the hieway dredless scho wend,
Yit scho wanderit, and yeid by to ane elriche well.
Scho met thar, as I wene,
Ane ask rydand on a snaill, 10
And cryit, Ourtane fallow, haill!
And raid ane inche behind the taill,
Quhill it wes neir evin.
Sua scho had hap to be horsit to hir herbry,
Att ane ailhous neir hevin, it nyghttit thaim thare; 15
Scho deit of thrist in this warld, that gert hir be so dry,
Scho nevir eit, bot drank our mesur and mair.
Scho slepit quhill the morne at none, and rais airly;
And to the yettis of hevin fast can the wife fair,
And by Sanct Petir, in at the yett, scho stall prevely: 20
[He] lukit and saw hir lattin in, and lewch his hert sair.
