To helpe theym of this[321] myserye?
Yf there shuld come a rayne,
To make a dearthe of grayne,
As God may send yt playne
For our covetous and disdayne,
I wold knowe, among vs[322] all,
What ware he[323] that shuld not fall
And sorowe as he went,
For Godes ponyshment?
Alas, this were a plage[324]