Hie Soverane Lord, lat nevir this finfull fot Do fchaine, fra hame, unto your Natioun! That nevir nane, fie ane, be callit a Scot, Ane rottin crok, lowfs of the dok, thair doun. Fra honeft folk devoyd this laithly loun: 485 On fura defert, quhair tliair is no repair, For fyling and infecking of the air, Caul's cary this cankerit corruptit carioun.
Thow wes confavit in the grit ecclippis, Ane monftour maid he grit Mercurius; 490 Na liald againe, nor lioo is at thy hippis, Infortunate, [foull,] falfe, and furius, Evill fchryvin, wanthryvin, nocht clene nor curius; Ane myting, fule of flyting, the flyrdome maid lyk, Ane crahbit, fkabbit, evill facit meflane tyk; 495 Ane fchitt, but witt, fchrevit and injurius.
Grit in the glaikis gud Maifter Guilliame gukkis, Our imperfyte in poetrie, or in proifs, All clofs undir clud of nycht thow cukkis. Rymifs thow of me, of Rethory the Rofs, 500 Lunatyk, lymmar, lufchbald, lowfs thy hoifs, That I may twich thy tone with tribulatioun, In recompanfing of thy confpiratioun, Or turfs the owt of Scotland: tak thy choifs.
Ane Benefice quha wald gif fie ane beift, 505 Dot gif it Avar to jvngill Judal's bellis;
