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111. Crow And Pie

111: Crow And Pie

111.1 Throughe
a forest as I can ryde,
To take my sporte yn an mornyng,
I cast my eye on euery syde,
I was ware of a bryde syngynge.
111.2 I
sawe a faire mayde come rydyng;
I speake to hur of loue, I trowe;
She answered me all yn scornyng,
And sayd, The crowe shall byte yow.
111.3 I
pray yow, damesell, scorne me nott;
To wyn your loue ytt ys my wyll;
For your loue I haue dere bought,
And I wyll take good hede thertyll.
111.4 Nay, for God, ser, that I nyll;
I tell the, Jenken, as I trowe,
Thou shalt nott fynde me suche a gyll;
Therfore the crowe shall byte yow.
111.5 He toke then owt a good golde ryng,
A purse of velweytt, that was soo fyne:
Haue ye thys, my dere swetyng,
With that ye wylbe lemman myn.
111.6 Be Cryst, I dare nott, for my dame,
To dele with hym that I doo nott knowe;
For soo I myght dyspyse my name;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.
111.7 He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
That was soo faire of hyde and hewe;
He kyssed hur cheke as whyte as whall,
And prayed hur that she wolde vpon hym rewe.
111.8 She scornyd hym, and callyd hym Hew;
His loue was as a paynted blowe:
To-day me, to-morrowe a newe;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.
111.9 He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
And layd hur downe vpon the grene;
Twys or thrys he served hur soo withall,
He wolde nott stynt yet, as I wene.
111.10 But sythe ye haue i-lyen me bye,
Ye wyll wedde me now, as I trowe:
I wyll be aduysed, Gyll, sayd he,
For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.
111.11 But sythe ye haue i-leyn me by,
And brought my body vnto shame,
Some of your good ye wyll part with me,
Or elles, be Cryst, ye be to blame.
111.12 I
wylbe aduysed, he sayde;
THe wynde ys wast that thow doyst blowe;
I haue a-noder that most be payde;
Therfore the pye hathe pecked yow.
111.13 Now sythe ye haue i-leyn me bye,
A lyttle thyng ye wyll tell;
In case that I with chylde be,
What ys your name? Wher doo ye dwell?
111.14 At Yorke, at London, at Clerkenwell,
At Leycester, Cambryge, at myrye Brystowe;
Some call me Rychard, Robart, Jacke, and Wyll;
For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.
111.15 But, all medons, be ware be rewe,
And lett no man downe yow throwe;
For and yow doo, ye wyll ytt rewe,
For then the pye wyll pecke yow.
111.16 Farewell, corteor, ouer the medoo,
Pluke vp your helys, I yow beshrew!
Your trace, wher so euer ye ryde or goo,
Crystes curse goo wythe yow!
111.17 Thoughe a knave hathe by me layne,
Yet am I noder dede nor slowe;
I trust to recouer my harte agayne,
And Crystes curse goo wythe yow!
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