Ane Descriptioun of Pedder Coffeis having na regaird til Honestie in thair Vacatioun

It is my purpose to discryve
This holy perfyte genolagie
Of Pedder Knavis superlatyve
Pretendand to awtoretie,
That wait of nocht but beggartie.
Ye burges sonis prevene thir lownis,
That wald distroy nobilitie,
And baneiss it all Borrow townis.

Thay ar declarit, in Sevin Pairtis ;
Ane scroppit coffe, quhen he begynnis
Sornand all and sindry airtis,
For to by hennis reidwood he rynnis,
He lokis thame up in to his innis
Unto ane derth, and sellis thair eggis,
Regraitandly on thame he wynnis
And secondly his meit he beggis.

Ane swyngeour coffe, amangis the wyvis,
In landwart dwellis with subteill menis,
Exponand thame, auld Sanctis lyvis,
And sanis thame with deid mennis banis ;
Lyk Rome rakaris, with awsterne granis,
Speikand curlyk ilk ane till uder
Peipand peurly with peteouss granis,
Lyk fenyeit Symmye and his bruder.

Thir cur coffeis that sailis ouer sone,
And thretty sum abowt ane pak,
With bair blew bonattis and hobbeld schone,
And beir bonnokkis with thame thay tak ;
Thay schamed schrewis, God gif thame lak.
At none quhen merchantis makis gud cheir,
Steilis doun, and lyis behind ane pak.
Drinkand bot dreggis and barmy beir.

Knaifatica coff misknawis him sell,
Quhen he gettis in a furrit goun :
Grit Lucifer, maister of hell,
Is nocht sa helie as that loun ;
As he cummis brankand throw the toun.
With his keis clynkand on his arme,
That calf clovin futtit fleid custroun,
Will mary nane bot a burges bairne.

Ane dyvour coffe, that wirry hen,
Distroyis the honor of our natioun,
Takis gudis to frist fra fremit men,
And brekis his obligatioun,
Quhilk dois the marchandis defamatioun,
Thay ar reprevit for that regratour ;
Thairfoir we gif our declaratioun,
To hang and draw that common tratour.

Ane curloreous coffe, that hege skraper,
He sittis at hame quhen that thay haik,
That pedder brybour, that scheip keipar,
He tellis thame ilk ane caik by caik ;
Syne lokkis thame up, and takis a faik,
Betuix his dowblett and his jackett
And eitis thame in the buth, that smaik ;
God that he mort into ane rakkett !

Ane cathedrall coffe, he is ouir riche,
And hes na hap his gude to spend,
Bot levis lyk ane wareit wreche,
And trestis nevir till tak ane end ;
With falsheid evir dois him defend,
Proceding still in averice,
And leivis his saule na gude commend,
Bot walkis ane wilsome wey, I wiss.

I yow exhort all that is heir,
That reidis this bill, ye wald it schaw
Unto the Provest, and him requeir,
That he will geif thir Coffeis the law,
And baneiss thame the Burgess raw,
And to the Scho streit ye thame ken ;
Syne cutt thair luggis, that ye may knaw
Thir Peddir Knavis be Burges men.