University of Virginia Library

The Voulter.

I called am the Voulter blacke:
I clawe myne enemie
With crooked cruell cratchyng clawes:
a filthie foule am I.
My foode is fulsome carrion foule,
with euery carkas dedde
That tumbled lies in stinkyng ditche,
I loue for to be fedde.
With euery writers penne pursued,
dispraised still am I:
The foulest foule I counted am,
of all the foules that fly.
Yet for the sence of smellyng sure,
no foule surpasse me can:
The Lion, Libarde, Egle, I
surmount, and also man.