Lo, quhat it is to lufe,
Lerne, ye that list to prufe,
Be me, I say, that no ways may
The grund of greif remvfe,
Bot still decay, both nycht and day;
Lo, quhat it is to lufe.
Lufe is ane fervent fyre
Kendillit without desyre,
Schort plesour, lang displesour,
Repentence is the hyre.
Ane pure
[1345] tressour, without mesour,
Lufe is ane fervent fyre.
To lufe and to be wyiss,
To rege
[1346] with gud adwyiss.
Now thus, now than, so gois the game,
Incertane is the dyiss.
Thair is no man, I say, that can
Both lufe and to be wyiss.
Fle alwayis frome the snair;
Lerne at me to be ware.
It is ane pane, and dowbill trane
Of endles wo and cair.
For to refrane that denger plane
Fle alwayis from the snair.