He that hes gold and grit richess

He that hes gold and grit richess,
And may be into mirryness,
And dois glaidness fra him expell,
And levis in to wrechitness,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that may be but sturt or stryfe,
And leif ane lusty plesand lyfe,
And syne with mariege dois him mell,
And bindis him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that hes for his awin genȝie
Ane plesand prop, but mank or menȝie,
And schuttis syne at ane vncow schell,
And is forfairn with the fleis of Spenȝie,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

And he that with gud lyfe and trewth,
But varians or vder slewth,
Dois evir mair with ane maister dwell,
That nevir of him will haif no rewth,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

Now all this tyme lat ws be mirry,
And sett nocht by this warld a chirry :
Now quhill thair is gude wyne to sell,
He that dois on dry breid virry,
I gif him to the Devill of hell.

Quod Dumbar.