Of tysth of lond tretyth the labourerThe gentylman tretyth of gentryeAnd the chorle deliteth him in al rebaudry.Alle one to the a faucon as a kyte.As gode an owle as a popingayA donghyl ducke as deynte as a snytewho seruith a chorle hath many a careful dayeA dieu sir chorle fare wele I fle my weyeFor I caste me neuir hensforth in my lykyngeA fore a chorle any more to syngeye folke that shalle this fable see or redeNewe forged tales I counseyl you to fleFor losse of godes take neuyr to great hede.Nor be nat sorye for noon aduersiteNe coueyt thynge that may natt recouered be.And remembre where euyr ye goueThat a chorles byrde is euyr wobigone.Vnto purpose this prouyd is ful ryueRede and reporte by olde remembraunceThat a chorles byrde and a knaues wyue.Haue oftentymes grete sorowe & myschaunceAnd who that hath fredom hath al suffisance.