Though bishops, in their pontificals,
Have men for to bear up their tails,
For dignity of their office;
Richt so ane queen or ane empress;
Howbeit they use sic gravity,
Conformand to their majesty,
Though their robe-royals be upborne,
I think it is ane very scorn,
That every lady of the land
Should have her tail so syde trailand;
Howbeit they been of high estate,
The queen they should nocht counterfeit.
Wherever they may go it may be seen
How kirk and causay they soop[149] clean.
The images into the kirk
May think of their syde taillis irk;[150]
For when the weather been maist fair,
The dust flies highest in the air,
And all their faces does begarie.
Gif they could speak, they wald them warie...[151]
But I have maist into despite
Poor claggocks[152] clad in raploch-white,
Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees,
Will have twa ells beneath their knees.
Kittock that cleckit[153] was yestreen,
The morn, will counterfeit the queen:
And Moorland Meg, that milked the yowes,
Claggit with clay aboon the hows,[154]
In barn nor byre she will not bide,
Without her kirtle tail be syde.
In burghs, wanton burgess wives
Wha may have sydest tailis strives,
Weel bordered with velvet fine,
But followand them it is ane pyne:
In summer, when the streetis dries,
They raise the dust aboon the skies;
Nane may gae near them at their ease,
Without they cover mouth and neese.
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