Johne smote of the munkes hed,
No longer wolde he dwelle,
So did Moche, the litulle page,
For ferd lest he wold tell.
Ther thei beryed hem both
In nouther mosse nor lynge,
And litulle Johne and Muche infere
Bare the letturs to oure kynge.
He kneled down vpon kis kne,