If I singe, ye will me lakke,
And wenen I wer out of min wit;
Therfor smale notes will I crake;
So wolde God I wer quit.

Syne me muste take this mery toin
To glade withal this cumpany,
I rede or ony swich be don,
For Godes love, tey up your ky!

Forsothe I may not singe, I say;
My voys and I am at discord;
But we shul fonde to take a day
To taken min avis and min acord.