Sche that was me lef and dere,

I smot here heved of be the swere,

Now lord, merci I crie;

Fader, God omnipotent,

Ne lete our soules never be schent,

For the love of oure lefdie.

Maries sone that sitteth in trone,

Lade to the i make my mone,

For thin holy grace;

That we mote be present,