The Complaint of Scotland.
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ADew all glasdnes, sport and play,
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Adew fair weill baith nycht and day
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All things that may mak mirrie cheir,
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But sich rycht foir in hart and say,
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Allace to Graif is gone my deir.
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My lothsum lyfe I may lament,
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With fixit face and mynde attent,
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In weiping wo to perseveir,
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And asking still for punischement,
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Of thame hes brocht to graif my deir.
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But lang allace I may complaine,
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Befoir I find my deir againe,
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To me was faithfull and Inteir,
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As Turtill trew on me tuke paine:
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Allace to graif is gone my deir.
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Sen nathing may my murning mend,
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On God maist hie I will depend
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My cairfull cause for to upreir:
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For he support to me will send
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Althocht to graif is gone my deir.
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My havie hap, and piteous plycht,
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Dois peirs my hart baith day and nycht,
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That lym nor lith I may not steir,
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Till sum revenge with force and mycht
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The Cruell murther of my deir.
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This cureles wound dois greif me soir,
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The lyke I never felt befoir
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Sen Fergus first of me tuke steir,
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For now allace decay is my gloir
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Throw cruell murther of my deir.
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O wickit wretche Infortunat,
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O Savage seid Insatiat,
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Mycht thow not frantik fule forbeir
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To sla with dart Intoxicat,
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And cruellie devoir my deir.
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Wa worth the wretche, wa worth thy clan
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Wa worth the wit that first began
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This deir debait for to upsteir,
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Contrare the Lawis of God and man
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To murther cruellie my deir.
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Throw the now Lawles libertie
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Throw the mischeif and crueltie
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Throw the fals men thair heid is up beir
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Throw the is baneist equitie
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Throw the to graif is gone my deir.
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Throw the ma Kings than ane dois ring
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Throw the all Tratours blyithlie sing
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Throw the is kendlit civill weir
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Throw the murther wald beir the swing,
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Throw the to graif is gone my deir.
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Throw the is rasit sturtsum stryfe,
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Throw the, the vitall breith of lyfe
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Is him bereft, did with the beir:
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Quhen Gallow pin, or cutting knyfe
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Suld stranglit the and saift my deir.
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Ungraitfull grome, sic recompence,
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Was not condigne to thyne offence,
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With glowing gunne that man to teir,
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From doggis deith was thy defence:
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To the sic mercie schew my deir.
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O cursit Cain, O hound of Hell,
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O bludie bairne of Ishmaell,
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Gedaliah quhen thow did steir,
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To vicis allthow rang the bell,
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Throw cruell murther of my deir.
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Allace my deir did not foirsie,
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Quhen he gaif pardone unto the
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Maist wickit wretche, to men sinceir
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Quhat paine he brocht and miserie,
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With reuthfull ruine to my deir.
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Bot trew it is, the godly men
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Quhilk think na harme nor falset ken,
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Nor haitrent dois to uthers beir,
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Ar sonest brocht to deithis den:
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As may be sene be this my deir.
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Thairfoir to the I say no moir,
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But I traist to the King of gloir,
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That thow and thyne sall zit reteir
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Zour Camps, with murning mynd richt soir
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For cruell murther of my deir.
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O Nobill Lordis of Renoun,
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O Barronis bauld ze mak zow boun
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To fute the feild with fresche effeir,
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And dintis doure, the pryde ding doun
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Of thame that brocht to graif my deir.
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Revenge his deith with ane assent,
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With ane hart, will, mynde, and Intent,
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In faithfull freindschip perseveir:
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God will zow favour, and thame schent.
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Be work or word that slew my deir.
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Be crous ze Commouns in this cace,
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In aventure ze cry allace,
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Quhen murtherars the swing sall beir,
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And from zour native land zow chace:
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Unles that ze revenge my deir.
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Lat all that fische be trapt in net,
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Was counsall, art, part, or reset
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With thankfull mynd and hartie cheir
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Or zit with helping hand him met
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Quhen he to graif did bring my deir.
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Defend zour King and feir zour God,
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Pray to avoyde his feirfull rod,
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Lest in his angrie wraith austeir
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Ze puneist be baith evin and od,
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For not revenging of my deir.
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And do not feir the number small,
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Thocht ze be few, on God ze call
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With faithfull hart, and mynde sinceir,
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He will be ay zour brasin wall,
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Gif ze with speid revenge my deir.
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Remuse all sluggische sleuth away,
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Lat lurking Inny clene decay,
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Gar Commoun weill zour Baner beir,
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And peace and concorde it display:
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Quhen ze pas to revenge my deir.
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With sobbing sych, I to zow send
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This my complaynt with dew commend
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Desyring zow all without feir,
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Me pure Scotland for to defend
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Sen now to graif is gone my deir.
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