Ane hasty hensure[936] callit Hary, Quha wes ane archer heynd[937], Tilt[938] vp a taikle withowttin tary[939], That torment so him teynd[940]. I wait nocht quhidder his hand cowd wary[941], Or the man wes his freynd, For he eschaipit[942] throw michtis of Mary As man that no ill meynd[943], Bot gud, At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Than Lowry as ane lyon lap, And sone a flane cowd fedder[944]; He hecht[945] to perss him at the pap, Thair-on to wed a weddir[946]. He hit him on the wame a wap[947], It buft[948] lyk ony bledder; Bot swa his fortoun wes and hap His dowblet wes maid of ledder, And saift him, At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Scottish Poetry of the Sixteenth Century — Part 73

A yaip[949] yung man that stude him neist Lowsd[950] of a schot with yre; He ettlit the bern[951] in at the breist, The bolt flew our the byre[952]. Ane cryit Fy! he had slane a preist A myll beyond ane myre; Than bow and bag[953] fra him he keist And fled as ferss as fyre Of flynt, At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Scottish Poetry of the Sixteenth Century — Part 73

With forkis and flailis thay lait[954] grit flappis, And flang[955] togiddir lyk friggis[956]; With bowgaris[957] of barnis thay beft[958] blew kappis Quhill thay of bernis maid briggis[959]. The reird[960] raiss rudly with the rappis, Quhen rungis[961] wes layd on riggis[962]; The wyffis come furth with cryis and clappis, “Lo quhair my lyking liggis[963]!” Quo thay At Chryst kirk of the grene.

Scottish Poetry of the Sixteenth Century — Part 73

Thay girnit and lait gird with granis[964] Ilk gossep vder grevit[965]; Sum straik with stingis[966], sum gadderit stanis, Sum fled and evill mischevit; The menstrall wan within twa wanis[967], That day full weill he previt[968], For he come hame with vnbirsed banis[969] Quhair fechtaris wer mischevit[970] For evir, At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Heich[971] Hucheoun, with a hissill ryss[972], To red[973] can throw thame rummill[974]; He mudlet[975] thame doun lyk ony myss[976], He wes no barty-bummill[977]. Thocht he wes wicht[978] he wes nocht wyss With sic jangleris to jummill[979], For fra his thowme thay dang a sklyss[980], Quhill he cryd “Barla-fummyll[981]! I am slane,” At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Quhen that he saw his blude so reid, To fle micht no man lat[982] him; He wend[983] it bene for auld done feid[984], The far sarar it set[985] him. He gart his feit defend his heid, He thocht ane cryd haif at him, Quhill he wes past out of all pleid[986] He suld bene swift that gat him Throw speid, At Chrystis kirk of the grene.