VIII Lyrics

The most needy aren oure neighbores,
And we nime good heebe,
As prisoners in pittes,
And poure folke in cotes,
Charged with children
And chef lords rente:
That they with spinning may spare,
Spenen hit in hous-hire,
Both in milk and in mele
To make with papelotes,
To aglotic with here gurles
That greden after foode.
Also hemselve suffren muche hunger,
And wo in winter-time
With waking a nights
To rise to the ruel to to rocke the crable
Bothe to carde and to cembe,
To clouten and to washe
To ribbe and to reli, rushes to pilie;
That reuthe is to rebe
Othere in rime shewe
The wo of these women
That wonieth in cotes;
And of meny other men
That muche wo suffren,
Bothe alingrede and afurst
To turne the faire outwarde,
And beth abashed for to begge,
And wolle nat be aknowe
What hem needeth at here neighbores
At noon and at even
This ich wot miterly,
As the worlde techeth,
What other bihoveth
That hath meny children,
And hath no catel bote his crafte
To clothy hem and to fede,
And fele to fonge therto,
And fewe pans taketh.
Ther is pain and peny-ale
As for a pitaunce ytake,
Colde flesh and cold fish
For veneshon ybake, Fridayes and fasting-dayes
A fethung-worth of muscles
Were a feste for suche folke,
Other so fele c***es.