He that hes gold and grit riches

Variations on William Dunbar, 2

He that has plenty of gold and riches
And could be in great happiness
But gladness from himself expells
And lives in stingy wretchedness --
He makes sorrow for himself.

He that could be without storm and strife
And live a joyful pleasant life
And then with marriage has to meddle
And takes up with a no-good wife --
He makes sorrow for himself.

He that has for company
A woman without spot or stain
And then goes plucking at strange shells
And wears himself out with flies of Spain --
He makes sorrow for himself.

And he that with good life and truth
Buys novelty and bad excuse
Forever with a master dwells
Who will have on him no ruth --
He makes sorrow for himself.

Now all this time let us be merry
And set not by this world a cherry;
Now, while there's good wine for sale,
He that on dry bread will worry --
I give him to the devil of hell.

---

The original, from James Kinsley's edition.

He that hes gold and grit riches
And may be into mirrynes,
And dois glaidnes fra him expell
And levis into wrechitnes,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that may be but sturt or stryfe
And leif ane lusty plesand lyfe,
And syne with mariege dois him mell
And bindis him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that hes for his awin genyie
Ane plesand prop, but mank or menyie,
And schuttis syne at ane uncow schell,
And is forfairn with the fleis of Spenyie,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

And he that with gud lyfe and trewth,
But varians or uder slewth,
Dois evirmair with ane maister dwell
That nevir of him will haif no rewth,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

Now all this tyme lat us be mirry,
And sett nocht by this warld a chirry,
Now quhill thair is gude wyne to sell;
He that dois on dry breid wirry,
I gif him to the Devill of hell.