1

Man, sen thy lyf is ay in weir,
And deid is sicker drawand neir,
The tyme vnsicker and the place,
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

2

Thow may to day haue gude to spend
And to morne haistelie fra it wend,
And leif ane vther thy baggis to brais:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

3

Gif it be thyn, thy self it vse,
Gif it be nocht, thow it refuse.
Ane vther of it the profitt hes:
Man, spend thy gud quhill thow hes space.

4

Quhill thow hes space, se thow dispone,
That for thy gude quhen thow art gone
No wicht ane vther sla nor chas:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

5

Sum all his dayis dryvis our in vane,
Ay gadderand geir with sorow and pane,
And vtheris ar glayd at Yule and Pasche:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

6

Syn cummis ane vther glayd of his sorow,
That for him prayit nor ewin nor morow,
And fangis it all with mirrey face:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

7

Sum greit gude gaderis and all it sparis,
And eftir him cummis young airis,
That his auld thrift settis on ane ais:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

8

It is all thyn that thow dispendis,
And nocht all that thow dependis,
Bot his to spend, he that hes grace:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

9

Luik how the barne dois to the moder,
And tak your sampill be ane vther,
That it nocht efter be thy case:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.

10

Traist nocht ane vther to do the to
It at thy self wald never do,
For gif thow dois, strange is the case:
Man, spend thy gude quhill thow hes space.