Bituene Fraunce ant Flaundres, hou hue weren fon;
Vor Vrenshe the eorl of Flaundres in prison heden y-don,
with tresoun untrewe.
Ȝe[f] the Prince of Walis his lyf habbe mote,
Hit falleth the Kyng of Fraunce bittrore then the sote;
Bote he the rathere therof welle do bote,
wel sore hit shal hym rewe.
Translation.—Listen, Lordings, both young and old,—of the Frenchmen that were so proud and bold,—how the Flemmish men bought and sold them—upon a Wednesday.—Better it had been for them at home in their country,—than to seek Flemings by the sea-strand,—through which many a French woman wrings her hands,—and sings, weladay!
The King of France made new statutes—in the land of Flanders, among false and true,—that the commons of Bruges full sorely began to rue,—and said amongst themselves,—“Let us assemble together boldly in the evening,—let us take the bailiffs by twenties and by tens,—let us clap off their heads above on the green,—and let us cast them in the fen.”
The weavers and the fullers assembled them all,—and held their council in their common hall,—they took Peter Conyng to be called their king,—and to be their chieftain.—They took their horses out of the stable,—and closed the town within the wall;—seventy bailiffs they made down fall,—and many another man.