On the Folye of ane Auld Manis Maryand ane Young Woman

Amang all folleis ane great folye I find,
Quhen that ane man past fyftie yeir of aige
That in his vaine consait he growes sa blind
As for to join him-selffe in maryage
With ane young lass quhais bluid is yet in raige,
Thinkand that he may serve hir appetyte;
Quhilk and he faill than will scho him dispyte.

Still ageit men sould jois in morall taillis,
And nocht in taillis: for folye is to mary
Fra tyme that baith thair strenthe and nature faillis,
And tak ane wyf to bring him-selffe in tarye;
For fresche Maii and cauld Januarij
Agreeis nocht upon ane sang in tune,
The tribbill wantis that sould be sang abune.

Men sould tak voyage at the larkis sang,
And nocht at evin quhen passit is the day.
Efter mid-age the luifar lyes full lang,
Quhen that his hair is turnit lyart gray.
Ane auld beird till ane quhyte mouth to lay
In-to ane bed, it is ane piteous sycht:
The ane cryes help! the uther hes no mycht.

Till haive bene merchand bygaine monie ane yeir
In Antwerp, Burges, and in town of Berrie,
Syne in-to Deip for to tyne all his geir
With vane conseat to puir himselffe, and herrie.
Grit perell is for to pas our the ferrie
In-to ane laikand boit nocht naillit fast,
To beir the saill nocht havand ane steife mast.

To tak ane mellein that grit lawbour requyris,
Syne wantis grayth for to manure the land;
Quhair seid wantis then men of teilling tyris;
Than cumis ane, findis it waist lyand,
Yokis his pleuch, teilleis at his awin hand.
Better had bene the first had never kend it
Nor thoill that schame. And sa my tale is endit.