Satire on Edinburgh

Quhy will ȝe, merchantis of renoun,
Lat Edinburgh, ȝour nobill toun,
For laik of reformatioun
The commone proffeitt tyine and fame ?
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That onie vther regioun
Sall with dishonour hurt ȝour name !

May nane pas throw ȝour principall gaittis,
For stink of haddockis and of scaittis ;
For cryis of carlingis and debaittis ;
For fensum flyttingis of defame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Befoir strangeris of all estaittis
That sic dishonour hurt ȝour name !

Ȝour stinkand Styll that standis dirk,
Haldis the lycht fra ȝour parroche kirk ;
Ȝour foirstairis makis ȝour housis mirk,
Lyk na cuntray bot heir at hame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Sa litill polesie to wirk
In hurt and sklander of ȝour name !

At your hie Croce, quhair gold and silk
Sould be, thair is bot crudis and milk ;
And at ȝour Trone bot cokill and wilk,
Pansches, pudingis of Jok and Jame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Sen as the world sayis that ilk
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name !

Ȝour commone menstrallis hes no tone,
Bot Now the day dawis, and Into Joun ;
Cuningar men man serve Sanct Cloun,
And neuir to vther craftis clame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
To hald sic moweris on the moune,
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name !

Tailyouris, soutteris, and craftis vyll,
The fairest of ȝour streitis dois fyll ;
And merchandis at the stinkand Styll
Ar hamperit in ane hony came :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That ȝe haue nether witt nor wyll
To win ȝour selff ane bettir name !

Ȝour burgh of beggeris is ane nest,
To schout thai swenȝouris will nocht rest ;
All honest folk they do molest,
Sa piteuslie thai cry and rame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That for the poore hes nothing drest,
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name !

Ȝour proffeit daylie dois incres
Ȝour godlie workis less and les ;
Through streittis nane may mak progres,
For cry of cruikit, blind, and lame :
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That ȝe sic substance dois posses,
And will nocht win ane bettir name !

Sen for the Court and the Sessioun,
The great repair of this regioun
Is in ȝour burgh, thairfoir be boun
To mend all faultis that ar to blame,
And eschew schame ;
Gif thai pas to ane vther toun
Ȝe will decay, and ȝour great name !

Thairfoir strangeris and leigis treit,
Tak nocht ouer meikle for thair meit,
And gar ȝour merchandis be discreit,
That na extortiounes be proclaime,
All fraud and schame :
Keip ordour, and poore niechtbouris beit,
That ȝe may gett ane bettir name !

Singular proffeit so dois ȝow blind,
The common proffeit gois behind :
I pray that Lord remeid to fynd
That deit into Jerusalem ;
And gar ȝow schame !
That sum tyme ressoun may ȝow bind,
For to win back to ȝow guid name.

Quod Dumbar.