Thy fkolderit fkin, hewd lyk ane faffrone bag, Garris men difpyt thar flei'che, thow fpreit of Gy: Fy! feyndly front; fy! tykis face, fy! fy! Ay loungand, lyk ane loikman on ane ledder; [Thy ghaiftly hike fleys folkis that pas the by,] 175 Lyke to ane ilark theif glowrand in ane tedder.
Nyfe nagus, nipcaik, with thy fchulderis narrow, Thow lukis lowfy, lonn of lownis aw; Hard hurcheonn, hirpland, hippit as ane harrow, Thy rigbane rattillis, and thy ribbis on raw, 180 Thy hanchis hirklis, with hukebanis hartb and haw, Thy laithly lymis ar lene as ony treis; Obey, theif baird, or I fall brek thy gaw, Fowll carrybald, cry Mercy on thy kneis.
Thow pure hippit, ugly averill, 185 With hurkland banis, holkand throw thy hyd, Reiftit and crynit as hangit-man on hill, And oft beiwakkit with ane our hie tyd, Quhilk brewis mekle barret to thy Bryd; Hir cair is all to clenge thy cabroch howis, 190 Quliair thow lyis fawfy in faphron, bak and fyd, Powderit with prymrofs, l'awrand all with clowifs.
Forworthin wirling, I warne the it is wittin, How, fkytterand ikarth, thow bos the hurle behind; Wan wraiglane walp, ma worm is lies thow bef'chittin, 195 Nor thair is gerfs on grund, or leif on lind;
