Frome toun to toun he ran, in wynde and rane,
Upon his feit, techeing the word of grace,
And never was subjectit to ryches.”
The Gled said, “Yit I heir no-thyng bot gude.
Proceid schortlye, and thy mater avance.”
The Papyngo said, “Father, be the Rude,
It wer too lang to schaw the circumstance,
Quhow Propertie, with hir new alyance,
Grew gret with chylde, as trew men to me talde,
And bure two dochteris gudelie to behalde.