 | Yorkshire writers |  |
II.
[Thre gude breþer are ȝe]
Thre gude breþer are ȝe,Gud gatis gange ȝe,
Haly thynges seke ȝe.
He says, will ȝe telle me?
He sais, blissede, lorde, mot ȝe be,
It may neuer getyne be,
Lorde, bot ȝour willis be.
Settis doune appone ȝour knee,
Gretly athe suere ȝe me
By Mary Modir mylke so fre;
There es no mane þat euer hase nede,
Ȝe schall hym charme & aske no mede.
And here sall I lere it the.
As þe Iewis wondide me,
Þay wende to wonde me fra þe grounde:
I helyd my-selfe bathe hale & sounde.
Ga to þe cragge of Olyuete,
Take oyle de bayes, þat es so swete,
And thris abowte this worme ȝe strayke.
This bethe þe worme þat schotte noghte,
Ne kankire noghte, ne falowe noghte;
And als clere hale fra þe grounde,
Als Ihesu dide with his faire wondis.
Þe ffadir & þe sone & þe haly gaste,
And goddis forbott, þou wikkyde worme,
Þat euer þou make any ristynge or any sugorne,
Bot awaye mote þou wende
To þe erthe & þe stane.
| Yorkshire writers | |