Scottes out of Berwik and of Abirdene,
At the Bannokburn were ye to kene;
There slogh ye many sakless, as it was sene,
And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene.
It is wroken, I wene, well wurth the while!
Ware yet with the Scottes, for they ar full of gile!

Where ar ye Scottes of Saint Johnes town?
The boste of youre baner is beten all down.
When ye bosting will bede, Sir Edward is bown
For to kindel you care and crak youre crown.
He has crakked youre crowne, well wurth the while!
Shame betide the Scottes, for they ar full of gile!

Scottes of Striflin were steren and stout,
Of God ne of gude men had they no dout.
Now have they, the pelers, priked about;
But at the last Sir Edward rifild their rout.
He has rifild their rout, well wurth the while!
But ever are they under but gaudes and gile.

Rughfute riveling, now kindels thy care;
Berebag with thy boste, thy biging is bare.
Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wilt thou fare?
Busk thee unto Brig, and abide thare.
Thare, wretche, shalt thou won, and wery the while;
Thy dwelling in Dondé is done for thy gile.

The Scot gas in burghes and betes the stretes;
Al these Inglis men harmes he hetes;
Fast makes he his mone to men that he metes,
But fune frendes he findes that his bale betes.
Fune betes his bale, well wurth the while!
He uses al threting with gaudes and gile.

But many man thretes and spekes ful ill
That sum time were better to be stane-still.
The Scot in his wordes has wind for to spill,
For at the last Edward shall have al his will.
He had his will at Berwik, well wurth the while!
Scottes broght him the keyes—but get for their gile.