"Ac the pouke it hath attached,
And me thermyde," quod that man,
"May no wed us quyte,
Ne no buyrn be oure borgh,
Ne brynge us fram his daunger;
Out of the poukes pondfold
No maynprise may us feeche,
Til he come that I carpe of,
Crist is his name.
That shal delivere us som day