O, thy fayre younglyng wot was frought wyth studdye
Wrack-ed her brayne for wordes lyke puddee
Tho much afeared of what was spelt
She casteth the hand wot she waseth dealt!

O, come ye, fayre mayden, tell us thy wordes
Tis none so fayre could not be hearde
Your voyce we longe for on thyse nighte
No manner thye tellyng, 'twylle be aryght!

For thyse Kat, O', knoweth yew not?
The studye of Chaucer she had not gotte
Indulgence of her Muddercatte fryends
Has leant her courage, to posteth agayn!