Quhen I am dead, make me a caddel.
Quhair the Pig breaks, let the shels lie.
Quhiles the hawk hes, and whiles he hunger hes.
Quha may hold that will away?
Quhen wine is in, wits out.
Quhair stands your great horse?
Quhen a man is full of lust, his wemb is full of leasing.
Quhen the good-wife is fra hame, the keys are tint.
Quhen the Steed is stoon, steik the stable-door.
Quhen Taylours are true, there is little good to shew.