Syres, in a whylowe ryne.[30]
Ye, syrs, and every daye
Whan I to scole shall take the waye
Some good mannes gardyn I wyll assaye,
Perys[31] and plommes to plucke.
I can spye a sparowes nest.
I wyll not go to scole but whan me lest,
For there begynneth a sory fest[32]
Whan the mayster sholde lyfte my docke.[33]
But, syrs, whan I was seven yere of age,