Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, 
Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie; 
Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree, 
Or till a reed ourblawin with the win. 
Twa gods guides me: the ane of them is blin, 
Yea and a bairn brocht up in vanitie; 
The next a wife ingenrit of the sea, 
And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. 

Unhappy is the man for evermair 
That tills the sand and sawis in the air; 
But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, 
That feedis in his hairt a mad desire, 
And follows on a woman thro the fire, 
Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.