Of the Tailors and the Shoemakers [Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye]

Betuix twell houris and ellevin,
I dremed ane angell came fra hevin
With plesand stevin sayand on hie:
"Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"In Hevin hie ordand is your place
Aboif all sanctis in grit solace,
Nixt God grittest in dignitie:
Tailyouis and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"The caus to yow is nocht unkend;
That God mismakkis, ye do amend
Be craft and grit agilitie:
Tailyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"Sowtaris, with schone weill maid and meit
Ye mend the faltis of ill maid feit,
Quhairfoir to Hevin your saulis will fle:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"Is nocht in all this fair a flyrok
That hes upoun his feit a wyrok,
Knowll tais nor mowlis in no degrie,
Bot ye can hyd tham, blist be ye.

"And ye tailyouris, with weil maid clais
Can mend the werst maid man that gais
And mak him semely for to se:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"Thocht God mak ane misfassonit swayne,
Ye can him all schaip new agane
And fassoun him bettir be sic thre:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"Thocht a man haif a brokin bak,
Haif he a gud telyour, quhattrak,
That can it cuver with craftis slie:
Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"Of God grit kyndnes may ye clame
That helpis His peple fra cruke and lame,
Supportand faltis with your supplé:
Tailyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye.

"In erd ye kyth sic mirakillis heir,
In hevin ye sal be sanctis full cleir,
Thocht ye be knavis in this cuntré:
Telyouris and sowataris, blist ye be."

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