On a pillori· to ben I·-piled?
Grete Iewes· þus weore gramed,
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And dyede· for heore werkes wyled;
In mournyng· I· may melte;
Mi fruit· þat is so holi halwed,
In a feeld· is fouled· and falwed;
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Wiþ grete Iewes· he is galwed,
And dyeþ· for Monnes gelte:
III.
FOr grete Iewes· galwes were greiþed,
Þat euer to Robbyng· Ronne ryf;
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Whi schal my sone· on þe beo leid,
Þat neuer nuyȝed· mon nor wyf?
A drinke of deþ· soþliche seid,
Cros þou ȝeuest· þe lord of lyf:
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His veynes to bursten· wiþ þi breid,
Mi fruit stont nou· in a strong stryf;
Blod from hed· is hayled,
Fouled· is my fayre fruit,
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Þat neuer dude· tripet ne truit
Wiþ þeues þat loueden· ryot and ruit;
Whi schal my sone· be nayled?
IV.
Þorwȝ Iugement· þou art en-Ioynet
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To bere fooles·, ful of sinne:
Mi sone from þe· schulde beon ensoynet,
And neuere his blod· vppon þe rinne;
But nou is truþe· wiþ tresun teynet,
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Wiþ þeoues to honge·, fer in fenne;
Wiþ feole nayles· his limes ben feynet,
A careful Moder· men mai me kenne,
In Bales· I· am bounde;
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