Als I me rode this endre day, O'my pleyinge, Seih I whar a litel may Bigan to singe: "The clot him clinge! Wai is him I' louve-longinge Shall libben ay, That slepen I ne may." Son ich herde that mirie note, Thider I drogh; I fonde hire in an herber swot Under a bogh With joye inogh. Son I asked: "Thou mirie may, Why singest thou ay, That slepen I ne may?" Now springes the spray All for love ich am so seek, That slepen I ne may. Than answerde that maiden swote Midde wordes fewe: "My lemman me haves bihot Of louve trewe; He chaunges anewe. If I may, it shall him rewe By this day, That slepen he ne may."
Als I me rode this endre day, O'my pleyinge, Seih I whar a litel may Bigan to singe: "The clot him clinge! Wai is him I' louve-longinge Shall libben ay, That slepen I ne may." Son ich herde that mirie note, Thider I drogh; I fonde hire in an herber swot Under a bogh With joye inogh. Son I asked: "Thou mirie may, Why singest thou ay, That slepen I ne may?" Now springes the spray All for love ich am so seek, That slepen I ne may. Than answerde that maiden swote Midde wordes fewe: "My lemman me haves bihot Of louve trewe; He chaunges anewe. If I may, it shall him rewe By this day, That slepen he ne may."
