Oues alienas tondunt,
Et perochias confundunt.
These felowes pilde as ganders,
Muche like the friers of Flanders,
Whiche serue Sathan about the cloisters,
Thei loue red wine and oisters.
Qui vult Satanæ seruire,
Claustrum debet introire,
And euer haue suche an hedde
As bastarde Boner that is dedde.