Lenten is come wiþ loue to toune,
Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune,
Þat all þis blisse bryngeþ:
Dayes eȝes in þis dales,
Notes suete of nyhtegales,
Vch foule song singeþ.
Þe þrestlecoc him þreteþ oo;
Away is huere wynter woo,
When woderoue springeþ.
Þis foules singeþ ferli fele,