Whan that ye Catfysshe first did swymme
In ENGLAND's own good Mudd
Some found its syngynge dulle and grymme
But others thoghte it good.

Yet some seyde, Catfysshe cannot synge!
No Fysshe makes such a sounde!
'Twould be a most outlandysshe thynge
And foreign, Ile be bounde.

But you may here that warblynge yette
Whan nyghtes grow darke and stille
Ye Mudcatte, syngynge, for a Bette:
Hay dilly, dilly dillye...

Noe Moral has thys woeful Verse,
Freindes, Brothers, Mothers, Grannies:
But thynke yowe, it could bee much worse -
At leaste yt rhymes and scannes.