Between the Yule but and the Pasch,
In a private place, where as I lay,
I heard ane sigh, and cry, alas!
What shall I outher dea or say?
A man that’s born of a middle-yeard wight,
For wealth or pelth can no be secure;
For he may have enough at night,
And the next morn he may be fow peur.
I speak this by a Northumberland man,
The proverb’s true proves by himself;