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Thus fam fits, and fum fews,

Sum byts the Birs fum Uly fpews,

And he Keips ay beft his Kews,

Spouts in his Nichbour's Nek.

III.

OF Tauch or Uly when they want,
Sir Girnega will give a Gant,

And bok a Pynt at ilka Pant,

And dr them Rofet rowth.

Wald Man and Wyf all do as I,
When eir we saw them we fould cry,
Fy on them, fich! and fy! fy! fy!

They fyle the Wind in trowth.

I a

THE

Soutars Answer to the Tailzier.

F

I.

ALSE clatterand Kenfy, Kuckold Knaif,

Blafphemand Baird in thy Backbyting,

Of me thou fall an Answer haif,

Fumart cum forth, and face my Flyting, Warfe than a Warlo in thy Wryting; Thou Sathans Seid ay fet to Evil,

Mandrag, Memerkyn, mismade Myting, I fall the conjure lyk the Devil.

II.

Fy on the Taylzior never trew,

Frae Claith weil can thou cleik a Clout,
Of Stomoks ftown baith red and blew,
A Bag fou anes thou bore about.

They followt thee with Cry and Shout,
Hey, hald the Thief that ftaw the Claith;

Thou will be hangt, haif thou nae Dout,
For mony prefumptous forfworn Aith,
III.

AMANG the Wyves it fall be witten
Thou was ane Knakat in the Way,
For loufy Seims that thou hast bitten,
Thy Gumes ar giltin grein and gray;
Thy Couch is on a Sonk of Strae,
Peild Prick-louse of a Pudding Price,
Breik Boutcher on a Suny Brae;

Wae worth thee Wirryar of qubyt Lyce.

IV.

THOU zeid with Elwand, Sheir and Thymbill,
Full mony a Day seikand thy Craft;

For Halfpenies thy Hand zeid nimble,
Grit Blads and Bitts thou staw full aft;
Quha delt with thee they wer full daft,
For on thy Back, as all Men kens,
Wer broken mony a gude Ax Shaft.
For wrangus Geir of uther Mens.

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THY Wyfe fcho wont a Man fhe gat

Of thee, quben that thou was weil Brankit,
And fcho gat but ape Cur Koakat,

A foul Taid Carle, all Tailzior fhankit,
For Clais that thou mifmade and mankit,

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Thou dar not dwell wher thou was born;

Zet afterwart thou fall be hankit

Betwixt Kirkaldy and Kingorne.

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Qued STEWART,

ETWIX twa Tods a crawing Cok,

Betwix twa Friers a Maid in her Smok,

Betwix twa Cats a Mous,

Betwix twa Tailziors a Lous;

Śchaw me, gude Sir, not as a Stranger,
Quhilk of thir Fours in griteft Danger

ANSWER.

Foxis ar fell at crawing Coks,

Friers are fers at Maids in thair, Smoks

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Cats ar cautelus in taking Myce,

Tailziors ar Tyrrans in killing Lyec

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A BALLAT made to the Scorn and

Derifion of wanton Women.

I.

E lufty Ladyis, luke,

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The rackles lyves ze leid,

Haunt nocht in Hole or Nuke,
To hurt zour Womenheid;
I red, for beft Remeid,
Forbeir all Place prophane;
Gif this be Caufe of Feid,
I fall not fayt again.

II.

QUHAT is fic Luve but Luft,
A lytill for Delyte,

To hant that Game robust,

And beiftly Appetyte;

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