The lamentation of the commounis of Scotland
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QUhat thift, quhat reif, quhat murther, & oppressioun?
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Quhat saikles slauchter, quhat mortall meserie?
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Quhat povertie, quhat derth and Tribulatioun?
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Dois Ring be Grange all leidis on lyfe may se
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The schame is thyne, thocht we the sorrow drie
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Curst Nemrod richt of Babilone the cheif,
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We Commounis all lowd vengeance cryis on the
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of all our greif.
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We sillie pure anis quhair we wer wont to gang
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With Coillis and Cokillis, with Fische & sicklyke wair,
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Upon our bakis als mekill as we micht fang
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With mirrie sang all tripping into pairis.
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To wyn our leving in mercat at sic Fairis
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Now we allace but reuth ar reft with theif,
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Have we ane lyart na baid bot all is thairis
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of all our reif.
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Na uther lyfe we pure men bade of better
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Nor with our Naiggis to gane to Edinburgh sone,
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With Peittis, with Curvis, and mony turse of Hedder,
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Ay gat gude saill syne lap quhen we had done.
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For mirrynes, and with the licht of Mone
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We wald ga hame but outher fray or chace,
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Quhair now in sorrow fra dure to dure we clune,
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Blaming thy tressoun of all our cair allace.
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We Coilzearis, Cadgearis, and Carteris in ane rout
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Be bludie Wolfis that Grange hes maid to steir,
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Our hors is rest, ourselfis ar doung but dout
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Quhair we did travell we dar not now appeir.
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Out of our Ludge we tak of thame sic feir
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Thocht it wald us ten thousand Crownis avance
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With morning Prayer we curse thame maid this weir
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of our mischance.
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Allace we Chapmen may with Creilmen murne
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Thay sillie men that brocht thair butter and egges
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To Edinburgh Croce and did na uther turne,
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And we agane wald by ane Fraer of Fegges
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Baith prenis and nedillis and sell to landwart Megges
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Than micht we travell quhair we dar not this day
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Bot lyis at hame, but meit, na drink bot dregges
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of all our fray.
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Quhat wicht on lyfe will not us pure pietie?
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That wont to bring the woll, the skin, and hyde
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To Edinburgh Towne in peice and Cheritie,
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Fra Selkirk, Hawik, and the partis of Clyde.
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Quhair now allace in hoill and boir we byde
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As wratches werie the Corenoche we carpe
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Dar not keik out for Rebellis that dois ryde
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Blaming thy tressoun of this our sorrow scharpe.
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We Tinklaris, Tailzeouris, we craftismen out of num-ber
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That be our craft had ay ane honest lyfe,
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We wait of nocht bot mekill cair and cummer
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Our Joy is turnit in wo and mortall stryfe.
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All our gay garmentis of sindrie fassounis ryfe
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We thame wedset our bodyis to sustene
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Na work ado bot beg baith barne and wyfe
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Blaming thy tressoun that causis us complene.
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We Merchandis all that with our Merchand pakkis
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Did travell ay, fra Towne to Towne, to Fairis
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Thow hes us baneist, thow hes us fleit fra crakkis,
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We sit at hame na saill is to our wairis.
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Thocht we wald travell thy reiffaris sa us clairis
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With reif but reuth, but pietie with extortioun
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But mirth in meserie thay horribill houndis us tairis
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of our oppressioun.
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We commounis all with cair we may lament
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That had sic peice, sic rest and unitie
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And now allace ar rugit, revin and rent
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Our steidis ar stowne, our cattell rest trewlie
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With weiping wallaway nane may we wyte bot the
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Thow Feind Infernall thow garris us walk our so
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Quhair we afoir did sleip richt quyetlie
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of all our wo.
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Bot sen with sith ze Cammounis do complene
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With sob full fair richt trewly sall I tell
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I James Dalzell Indwellar in the Dene,
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Be Grange smaikis I wait send be him sell
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Hes schot my wyfe throw birsket lyre and fell
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Scho greit with barne syve gaif the gaist with plane
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Than cryit my bairnis with mony zout and zell
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Blaming thy tressoun that had thair Mother slane
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Thay reuthles Ruffeis but reuth with crueltie
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Did slay my husband but caus into my sicht,
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Downie Ros be Name ane Cuitlar of craft trewlie
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With Gunnis him gord but mercy on the nicht
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I and my bairnis sall craif Goddis plaigues ful riche
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To fall the Grange thow cruell Cokadraill
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With fourtie ma nor did on Phato licht
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Blaming thy tressoun that causis us bewaill
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Sen not but caus we wyte the of this wa
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With panefull pech, with mony grank and grane,
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The curse, the wareis, but blys fra top to ta
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Lat never thy freind se oucht of the bot schame.
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With cursit deith that mony man the blame
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Lucifer was heich, bot Lord thow threw him downe
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Sa will he the, thow graceles Grange be Name
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Blaming thy tressoun with sorrow but Renowne.
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O tenefull Tyrane, O Gyant mekill but micht,
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Of vitious deidis thow art the only Fontane
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Quhairfra all vice but vertew springis full richt
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As dois the watter out of the Rok or Montane
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We pure sall cry with erie hartis fast dontane
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To the O God, to scurge this wickit wicht,
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In Just exempill to all the warld maist certane
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Blaming thy tressoun the caus of all our plicht.
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Had thow bene trew but tressoun to our Roy
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And to his Regent, gaif the that hauld to keip,
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As thow did sweir, we had not had this noy
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We micht had peice, quhair now in weir we weip.
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In wo, but weill, but plesure in pane sa deip
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Be the O Tratour, that Rebellis did ressaif
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Into that hauld with the thairin to creip
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Ha tressoun untrew will gar ane widdie waif.
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Now lat us all with hart and mynde us dres
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Baith evin and morne, richt law downe on our kne,
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With hyddeous schout all we baith mair and les
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For vengeance Just, with tene to fall on the.
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O thow O Lord, and God in persoun thre
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Consume this wratche with Brintstane fyre and thunder
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That persecuitis thy Sanctis with crueltie
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Ha tressoun untrew ane tow will schaik in schunder.
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Preserve with micht fra slicht of lais defend
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Our King gude Lord, and als his Regent eik:
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Lat never thair micht, but richt, with hand ay bend
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Have strenth or power thame for to hurt or wreik.
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We thy pure liegis sall pray and als beseik
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To send the grace, lang space in weilfair wend
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That we may se the puneis vice but meik
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And tressoun all sessoun, with this we mak ane end
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