My Gudedame was a gay wif, bot scho was ryght gend,
Scho duelt furth fer into France, apon Falkland fell;
Thay callit her Kynd Kittock. quhasa hir weill kend:
Scho was like a caldrone cruke cler under kell;
Thay threpit that scho deit of thrist, and maid a gude end.
Efter her dede, scho dredit nought in hevin for to duell,
And sa to hevin the hieway dreidless scho wend.
Yit scho wanderit and yeid by to an eldriche well.
Scho met thar, as I ween,
Ane ask ridant on a snaill,
Scho cryit, "ourtane fallow haill!"
And rade ane inche behind the taill,
Till it wes neir evin.

Sa scho had hap to be horsit to her herbry
Att an ailhous neir hevin it nyghttit thaim thare;
Scho deit of thrist in this warld, that gert hir be sa dry,
Scho never eit, bot drank our mesur and mair.
Scho slepit quhill the morn at none, and rais airly;
And to the yettis of hevin fast cowd scho fair,
And by Sanct Petir, in at the yet scho stall prevely;
God lukit and saw hir lattin in, an lewch his hairt sair.
And thar, yeris sevin,
Scho levit a gud life,
And was oor Ladyis hen wif;
And held Sanct Petir at strif,
Ay, quhill scho wes in hevin.

Scho lukit out on a day, and thoght verry lang
To se the alehous beside in till ane evill hour;
And out of hevin the hie gait cought the wif gaing
For to get hir ain fresche drink, the aill of hevin wes sour.
Scho come agane to Hevinis yet, quhen that the bell rang;
Saint Petir hat hir with a club, quhill a gret clour
Rais in hir heid, becaus the wif yeid wrang.
Than to the alehouse agane scho ran, the pycharis to pour,
And for to brew and baik.
Frendis, I pray yow hertfully,
Gif you be thristy or dry,
Drink with my Guddame, as ye ga by,
Anys for my saik.