Classic Poem

On yeir begines ane other endis
Thus Tyme doeth come and goe
All thus to your Instructione tends
Give we culd tak it so
The sommeris heat the winters cold
Quhois seasonis lets us see
Quhan youth is gone and we wax old
Lyk flouris we fade and die.

Men for the most pairt dois rejoyce
Quhan sonis to them ar borne
Quhois weiping noice bevailles thair vois
and folis chanes to scorne
Thes ar the mesengeris to schow
Our tyme is passing fast
Quhan We deceas still they do grow
Till death us pairt at last

Now let us learne to spend our dayes
In vertue as we ought
In doing guid mak no delay
put sleuth out of our thought
The sleuthfull nevir yit ateind
To honour wealth nor fame
But many hath by vertue gaind
ane long long lasting name

In spring tyme of our youth we suld
The seidis of learning Saw
Weid furth our vyces give we could
our sinfull lustis overthraw
quha in the pryme of youth taks paines
Thair service to bestow
In harvest of his age againe
The grapes of grace do grow

Thus all tymes begines and ends
No thing bot fame remaines
hapie is he quha wyslie spends
His Tym in Vertues paines
Bot quhan the paine is past away
the pleasor sall abyde
Now hapie thryse ar such I say
That taks tyme at the tyd

The tyd of tyme it floweth fast
and quickly ebes away
Bot if our schip lacks saill or mast
Our Voyage mast delay
our bodies ar that brittle barks
That sailles that floodes of fame
Bot if throue sleuth we miss [the] marke
we sinke in seas of schame

Occatione haveth hear befoir
Bot scho is beld behind
Tint tyme no travell can restoir
as many folles may find
the little ant the hony bee
In sommer layeth up stoir
for to provyd for winters stormes
man most and suld do moir

Thus I have done to pleas your Will
Now let me have my hyre
I have bewray'd my want of skill
In doing your desyre
The Weakness of a Woman's Witt
Is not to natures fault
Bot lack of educatioune fitt
Makes nature quhylls to halt.