LXIX.
THE OLD MAISTER
To my old Maister, and his ȝong disciple;
Tua bairnis of Beath, by Natur taught to tipple.
The Lesbian Lad, that weirs the wodbind w[reath,]
With Ceres and Cylenus, gled ȝour ging.
Be blyth, Kilbvrnie, with the Bairns of Be[ath;]
And let Lochwinnoch Lordie lead ȝour ri[ng.]
Be mirrie men; feir God, and serve the K[ing;]
And cair not by Dame Fortuns fead a fl[ea;]
Syne, welcome hame, suete Semple, sie ȝe [sing;]
Gut ouer, and let the wind shute in the [sea.]
I, Richie, Jane, and George are lyk to [dee;]
Four crabit crippilis crackand in our crouch.
Sen I am trensh-man for the other thri[e,]
Let drunken Pancrage drink to me in D[utch.]
Scol frie, al out, albeit that I suld brist
Ih wachts, hale beir, fan hairts and nych [sum] drist.