A Satire

To yow, my lordis of renoun,
The haill pepill of Rugling toun;
Burges, merchants, and indwellaris;
Craftsmen, officers, and meit-sellaris;
Ryche men, pulranes, and gud yemen;
Wydows, maidins, and hyre-women;
Honest matrons, and guid wyfis;
Young men, and younkers that sindil stryfis.
Magistratis, and men of degrie;
Servands, and sic as luifis on fie;
Schortlie of the toun the haill menzie,
Maist humblie to yow now dois plenzie,
That our traffique dols clene decay;
Our schift and gaine is quyt away.
We haif na change within our burgh;
The greine girs grows our streithis through;
Our baxisteris of breid hes no saill;
The brosteris hes na change for aill.
The fleschers' skamblis ar gane dry;
The heiland men bringis in na ky.
The merchands hes na change of wair;
The hostellaris gettis na repair;
The craftismen ar not regardit;
The prentes boyis ar not rewardit;
The stableris gettis na stabil fies;
The hyre women gettis na balbeis;
The hors-boyis ar hurt of thair waige.
There is no proffeit for a paige.

Schortlie, thair is na change within,
The court of strangeris is sa thin.
And all this sorow, and mischeif,
Is nouther cum of huir nor theif;
Nor be the force of enimeis;
Nor be privat conspiraceis.
Bot becaus men hes lattin doun
The fair, and market of our toun.
I mean the mercat of our hors;
Quhilk nather cumis to port, nor cors,
Nor to the croft our toun besyde;
Quhar mony ane was wont to ryde.
At guit Sanct Lukis nobill fair
Quhair mony nobills did repair;
And for the wery wynter tyd
For ryddin hors did thame provyde,
For thame and all thair company;
That it was plesour thame to se.
Bot now the nobillis takis na fors;
And cairis not for ryddin hors.
On hors thai will no mony spend,
Bot spairs it till ane uthair end.
Sua nevir is sene intill our toun
Lord, laird, burges, or baroun.
And quhair that mony gay gelding
Befoir did in our mercat ling,
Now skantlie in it may be sene
Tuelf gait glydis, deir of a preine.

This cummis not, as we considder,
That men to travel now ar slidder;
For mony now so bissie ar,
Quhider ye travell neir or far.
Go befoir, or byde behind,
Ye sall thame aye in your gat find:
Thoch nothing to thame thair perteine,
Yit thai will ay be bissie sene.

Nor yit tak thai this cair and paine,
On fute travellan on the plaine,
Bot rydes rycht softlie on a MEIR ,
Weil montit in thair ryding geir.
The richt ressoun thane till espy,
Quhy rydin hors men will not by,
Is that thai get ane MEIR unbocht;
And sua thai think thai ryd for nocht.
And thinks it war ane fulische act
On ryding hors to spend the pact;
Haifand ane yaid at thair command,
To ryd on baith in burgh, and land.
This wikit METR sa weill thame staikis,
And ambillis with them in the glaikis,
That quha to hir dois anes him hant,
Thairester he can not her want.
For scho so glorioussie dois ryd,
That thame puffis up with pryd:
Be thai anes montit on hir bak,
Thai think in thame there is na lak.

Thair meit doublet dois thame rejoys;
Thay spred abrod thair russet hois;
Thay tak delyt in nedil wark,
Thay gloir in thair weill ruffit sark.
Thair litil bonet, or bred hat,
Sumtyme heiche, and sumtyme plat,
Waites not how on thair heid to stand;
Thair glusis perfumit, in thair hand,
Helpis meikil thair countenance:
Et tout est a la mode de France.
Thair dry scarpenis, baythe tryme and meit;
Thair mullis glitteran on thair seit;
Thair gartans, knottet with a roys,
Putis all the lassis in thair chois.
They snyte, thoch thair na mister be,
That ye may thair trim napkyne see;
And, gif ye richtly it considder,
The goldin knappis shall hing thegidder,
Quhaneas thay talk of ony thing,
All tendis to thair awn loving;
Wald ye esteme thame be thair crakis,
Thay wald be Cesaris in thair actis;
For lordlie liberalitie,
Thay gone bot kingis for to be.
Thair ryches, as thairselfs dois count,
King Cresus' thresour may surmount.
Onto thair talis quha list attend,
Thay knaw all to the warlds end:
Gif ye will trew all that thay tell,
In everie thing thai do excell.
Tha ar the fassiouns, as I heir,
Of men that rydis on the MEIR .

The wemen als, that on HIR rydis,
Thay man be buskit up lyk brydis.
Thair heidis heisit with sickin saillis;
With clarty silk about thair taillis:
Thair gounis schant to schaw thair skin,
Suppois it be richt oft full din.
To mak thame sma the waist is bound;
A buist to mak thair bellie round:
Thair buttokis bosterit up behind;
A fartigal to gathair wind.
Thair hois made of sum wantoun hew;
And quhene thai gang, as thai nocht knew,
Thay lift thair goun abone thair schank;
Syne lyk ane brydlit cat thai brank.
Sum taunting wordes thai haif per queir,
That service thame in all mateir.
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