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Everye pylde pedlar
Wyll be a medlar
Though ther myttes be drowsye
And ther lernynge lowsye
Ther meters all mangye
Rashe, rurall, and grangye
Yet wyll they forwarde halte
As menne mased in malte
These vyle cannell rakers
Are now becumme makers
Ther poems out they dashe
Wich all ther swyber swashe
Ther darnell and ther chaffe
Ther swylle and swynyshe draffe
Soche pype soche melodye
Soche bagge soche beggerye.
Of pylde popyshe facyons
They strowe exhortacions
The people to infecte.
With the sedes of ther secte
Pretendynge to dyffyne
Agaynst the false doctryne
But soche dyrtye geare
Ded menne neuer heare.
They teache nat in meter
With Paule Iohan and Peter
The worlde to edyfye
With goddes worde christenlye
But scripturs they depraue


As madde men that do raue
They daunce with the deuyll
To magnyfye ther euyll.
They drysle forth a dramme
As he that to Christ camme
To trappe hym in a snare
Forsoth it is fonde were
Let christen menne take hede
Vnto ther wycked sede
For they seke for to blynde
The syllye symple mynde.
The papystes tytle. An exhortacyon to auoyde false doctryne.