Sae weel, I trow, sall set them!
Your shanks[304] of silk, your velvet shoon,
Your broidered wyliecoat aboon,
As ye devise, all sall be done,
Uncraipit, when ye get them.
Your tablet, by your halse[305] that hings,
Gold bracelets, and all other things,
And all your fingers full of rings,
With pearls and precious stanes,
Ye sall have ay while ye cry ho,