ane new ballet set out be ane Fugitive
Scottisman that fled out of Paris at this lait Murther.
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NOw Katherine de Medicis hes maid sic a Gyis
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To tary in Paris the Papistes ar tykit
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At Bastianes brydell howbeit scho denyis
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Give Mary slew Hary, it was not unlykit
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Yit a man is nane respectand this number
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I'dar not say wemen hes wyte of this cummer.
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Yone Mask the Quene mother hes maid thame in France
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Was maikles and saikles, and schamfully slane
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Bot Mary convoyit and come with ane dance
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Quhill Princes in Sences was fyrit with ane trane
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Baith tressonabill murtheris, the ane and the uther
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I go not in Masking mair with the Quene Mother.
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Italianes ar Tyranis, and tressonabill Tratoris:
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For gysours devysours, the Guysianis ar gude
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Bot Frenchemen are trew men, and not of thair natouris
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Than Charlie I farlie thow drank thy awin blude
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I wyte bot thy Mother wit, wemen ar vane
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In greis neir to Ganyelon nor grit Charlie Mane.
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Thy style was Treschristien maist Cristen King
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Baith hiest and friest, and neist the Impyre
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Bot now Provest Marschell in playing this spring
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And ressoun for tressoun provokis God to Ire
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Belevis thow this trumprie sall stablische thy style?
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Our God is not deid yit, be doand ane quhyle.
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Suppois that the Papistes devysit this at Trent
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To ding us and bring us with mony lowd lauchter
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With sic cruell Murther is Christ sa content
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To take the and make the ane Sanct for our slauchter
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Albeit he correct us, and scurge us in Ire
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Be war with the wand syne he wapis in the fyre.
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For better is pure men nor Princes perjurit
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Baith schameles and fameles, we find thame sa fals
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With sangis lyke the Seryne our lyfis thow allurit
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Ouirsylit us begylit us with baitis in our hals
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Or as the fals Fowler his fang for to get,
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Devoiris the pure volatill he wylis to the net.
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In Ilis nor in Orknay, in Ireland Oneill
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Thay dar not, thay gar not, thair liegis be stickit
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Solyman, Tamerlan, nor yit the mekle Deill
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Proud Pharao, nor Nero, was never sa wickit
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Nouther Turk nor Infidell usis sic thing
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As be their awin burreo, being ane King.
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Baith auld men and wemen, with babis on thair breist
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Not luking nor huking, to hurll thame in Sane
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All beand murdreist downe, quhat do ye neist
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Processioun, Confession, and up Mes agane
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Proud King Antiochus was sum tyme als haly
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And yit our God guschit out the guttis of his belly
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Thy Syster thou maryit, thy Saces was sour
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Sic cuikrie for luikrie was evill Interprisit
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Ye maid us the Reid Freiris, and rais in an hour
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Abhorring na gorring that micht be devisit
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Thou playit the fals Hypocreit fenzeing the fray
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But inwart ane rageing wolf waitand thy pray.
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That France was considderat with Scotland I grant,
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Baith actit, contractit, and keipit indeid
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The kyndnes of Cutthrottis, we cure not to want
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Denyis thame, defyis thame, and all thair falseseid
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It was bot with honest men we maid the band
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And thou hes left leifand bot few in that land.
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Our faith is not warldly we feir not thy braulis
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Thocht hangmen ouir gangmen, for gaddaring our geir
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Ye kill bot the Carcase, ye get not our Saulis
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Not douting our shouting is hard in Goddis eir
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The same God from Pharo defendit his pepill
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And not yone round Robene that standis in your stepill.
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Now wyse Quene Elizabeth luik to yourself
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Dispite them, and wryte thame, ane bill of defyance
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The papistis and Spanyards, hes partit your pelf
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As newly and trewly was tald me thir tythance
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Beleve thay to land heir, and get us for nocht
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Will ye do as we do, it sal be deir bocht.
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Give pleis God we gre sa, and hald us togidder
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Baith surely and sturely, and stoutly gainstand thame
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They culd not weill conqueis us, culd ye considder
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For our men are dour men, and likis weill to land thame
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Quhen Cesar himself was chaist, have ye foryet
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And baith the Realmes be aggreit, tak that thay get.
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For better it is to fecht it, defendant our lyfis
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With speirmen and weirmen, and ventour oursellis
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Nor for to se frenchemen deflorand our wyfis
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Displace us, and chace us, as thay have done ellis
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I meane quhen the Inglismen helpit at Leith
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And gart thame gang hame agane spyte of thair teith.
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I cannot trow firmely that Frenchmen ar cummen
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Persayfand thame haifand, thameselfis into parrell
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The Lord save Elizabeth, thair ane gude woman
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That cauldly and bauldly, debait will our quarrell
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With men and with money, baith Armour and graith
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As scho hes befoir tyme defendit this Faith.
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Thocht France for thair falset be drownit in dangeris
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For causis and pausis thay plait into Pareis
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Yit we ar in war estait waitand on strangeris
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Not gyding devyding, our awin men from Mareis
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Go weid the calf from the corn, calk me thair dures
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And slay or ye be slane, gif sic thing occures.
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Bot how can ye traist thame, that trumpit yow ellis
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Decoir thame, do for thame, or foster thair seid
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And thay may anis se thair time, tent to yoursellis
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Baith haitfull, dissaitfull, ye deill with indeid
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Anis wod and ay the war, wit quhat ye do
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And mak thame fast in the ruit gif thay cum to.
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God blis yow my brether, and biddis yow gudnicht
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Obey God, go say God, with prayer and fasting
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Christ keip thie pure Ile of ouris in the auld rihct
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Defend us and send us, the life Everlasting
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The Lord send us quyetnes, and keip our young king
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The Quene of Inglands Majestie, & lang mot yai Ring.
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