Classic Poem

Adeu, my King, Court, Cuntrey and my kin,
Adeu, suete Duke, whose father held me deir;
Adeu, Companiones Constable and Keir;
Thrie treuar hairts I trou sall never tuin.
If byganes to revolve I suld begin,
My tragedie wald cost you mony a teir
To heir hou hardly I am handlit heir,
Considring once the honour I wes in.
Shirs ye haif sene me griter with his Grace,
And with your umwhyle Maister to o and myne
Wha thoght the Poet somtyme worth his place,
Suppose ye sie they shot him out sensyne.
Sen wryt nor wax nor word is not a word
I must perforce ga seik my fathers suord.