Bot rathir sport myne awin spereit to reioss,
And my lordis to heir that will deden;
Now I begin with Titill est, Amen.
EIR I gife gow caiss,
Vmquhile a merry man wais
Callit Cokkelbe:
He had a simple blak sow,
And he sald hir, bot how,
For penneis thre, as eftir ge may see;
L. 6. "As eftir 3e may see," are added in the manuscript, perhaps by
the same hand, but evidently written with different ink.
THE FIRST PENNY of the thre
For a girle gaif he;
The secund fell in a furde;
The thrid he hid in a hurde.
Now quhilk penny of the thre
Wes best bestowit, say ge?
The lost penny wes vplesit,
The girle for the tyme plesit;
Bot the penny that wes hid,
I hold leist gude did;
For in old prouerbe we sing,
Cumis littill gud of gaddering,
Quhair wrechit awerice birnis,
Hyding hurdis in to hirnis,
And knawis nevir quhome till,
Latting wirschep to go will.
Gret laubor is to get geir,
And to conserue it is feir,
And moir angir is to leiss.
Thir thre peruerst propirteiss,
I find in skarss keping,
And auaritious wynnyng,
Quhair mesur is nocht maistress,
Bot gaddering for gredeness.
The hid penny, thinkis me,
Wes werst bestowit of the thre,
For it waiss fro the vse of man;
Lat warldis gudis go than,
With messur and merines.
Jit thair is moir of this cais,
The penny lost in the lak
Wes fundin and vptak,
And he that fand it did by
With the samyn penny
L. 10. "Maid" on the margin, and the word
L. 43. "Gryce" on the margin, written in the same hand.
Bot presumpteouss in pryd,
Practing no thing expert,
In cunnyng, cumpass, nor kert,
A skeg, a scornar, a skald,
A balestrod and a bald,
An vnthrifty dapill man,
A rebald, a ruffian,
A murderer of leil men,
A revischer of wemen;
And two lerit men thame by,
Schir Ockir and Schir Symony,
Zit mony in a grit rout
For lak of rowme stud about.
Now wald I wit at this feste
Quho fure best of this beste;
I hald the folk best fure,
That stud fer without the dure
Fro this cursit cumpany,
And mensles mangery.
Zit of this caiss thair is moir,
The puir pig gaif a rore,
Him to kill quhen thay pynit;
So soir the silly pig quhrynit,
Quhill all the swyn thairabout
Bot nocht to thame self than,
For wo is him that hes royne;
Bot nocht so of the swyne,
And on of thame be ourthrawin,
That his cry may be knawin,
All the remanent that heiris
Cumis in thair best maneiris,
To reskew as thay may;
So did thay this day.
That sowis sonis hard I nevir
Win so grit wirschep for euir,
For Stiftapill all the store
Ruschit out with a rore.
This pig, quhen they hard him,
Thay come golfand full grim;
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