Classic Poem

1

Sanct saluatour, send siluer sorrow!
It grevis me both evin and morrow,
Chasing fra me all cheritie.
It makis me all blythnes to borrow,
My panefull purs so priclis me.

2

Quhen I wald blythlie ballattis breif
Langour thairto givis me no leif.
War nocht gud howp my hart vphie,
My verry corpis for cair wald cleif.
My panefull purs so prikillis me.

3

Quhen I sett me to sing or dance
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance.
My panefull purs so prikillis me.

4

Quhen men that hes pursis in tone
Pasis to drynk or to disione,
Than mon I keip ane grauetie
And say that I will fast quhill none.
My panefull purs so priclis me.

5

My purs is maid of sic ane skyn,
Thair will na cors byd it within.
Fra it as fra the feynd thay fle.
Quha evir tyne, quha evir win,
My panefull purs so priclis me.

6

Had I ane man of ony natioun,
Culd mak on it ane coniuratioun
To gar siluer ay in it be,
The devill suld haif no dominatioun
With pyne to gar it prickill me.

7

I haif inquyrit in mony a place
For help and confort in this cace,
And all men sayis, my lord, that ye
Can best remeid for this malice,
That with sic panis prickillis me.