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Ane Co[m]pendious [buik] of godlie Psalmes and spirit[uall Sangis]

collectit furthe of sindrie pa[rtis of the] Scripture, with diueris utheris [balla]tis changeit out of prophaine [sangis] in godlie sangis, for [avodying of] sin and harlatrie. With [aug]mentation of sindrie [gude] and godlie Ballattis not contenit in the first editioun [by John Wedderburn]

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[The Paip that Pagane full of pryde]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

[The Paip that Pagane full of pryde]

The Paip that Pagane full of pryde
He hes vs blindit lang,
For quhair the blind the blind dois gyde,
Na wonder thay ga wrang:
Lyke Prince and King he led the Ring
Of all Iniquitie,

179

Hay trix, tryme go trix, vnder the grene. &c.
Bot his abhominatioun,
The Lord hes brocht to licht
His Popische pryde and thrinfald Crowne
Almaist hes loist thair micht.
His plak Pardounis ar bot Lardounis,
Of new found vanitie,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.
His Cardinallis hes caus to murne,
His Bischoppis borne aback:
His Abbottis gat ane vncouth turne
Quhen schauelingis went to sack,
With Burges wyfis thay led thair lyfis,
And fure better nor we,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.
His Carmelites and Iacobinis,
His Dominiks had greit do
His Cordeleiris and Augustinis
Sanct Frances ordour to,
Thay sillie Freiris, mony ȝeiris,
With babling blerit our E,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.
The Sisteris gray, befoir this day,
Did crune within thair Cloister,
Thay feit ane Freir, thair keyis to beir,
The Feind ressaue the foster,
Syne in the mirk sa weill culd wirk
And {k}ittill thaine wantounlie,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.

180

The blind Bischop, he culd docht preiche,
For playing with the ladis,
The syllie Freir behuffsit to fleiche,
For almous that he assis,
The Curat, his Creid, he culd nocht reid,
Schame fall the cumpanie,
Hay trix, try me go trix. &c.
The Bischop wald nocht wed ane wyfe
The Abbote not persew ane,
Thinkand it was ane lustie lyfe.
Ilk day to haue ane new ane.
In euerie place, ane vncouth face,
His lust to satisfie,
Hay trix tryme go trix, &c.
The Persoun wald nocht haue ane hure.
Bot twa, and thay war bony,
The Uicar (thocht he was pure,)
Behuiffit to haue als mony,
The Parcis Preist, that brutall beist,
He polit thame priuelie,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.
Of Scotland well, the Freiris of Faill,
The lymmerie lang hes lestit.
The Monkis of Melros maid gude kaill,
On Frydayis quhen thay fastit,
The sillie Nunnis caist vp thair bunnis,
And heisit thair hippis on hie,
Hay trix, tryme go trix. &c.
Of lait I saw thir lyminaris stand,

181

Lyke mad men at mischeif,
Thinking to get the vpper hand,
Thay luke efter releif,
Bot all in vaine, go tell thame plaine,
That day will neuer be,
Hay trix, tryme go trix, &c.
O Iesus gif thay thocht greit glie,
To se Goddis word downe smorit,
The Congregatioun maid to flie,
Hypocresie restorit,
With Messis sung, and bellis rung,
To thair Idolatrie.
Marie God thank ȝow, we sall gar blank ȝow
Befoir that tyme trewlie.
FINIS.