To been a Monk slender is your [A]coise,
Ye have been sick I dare mine head assure,
Or let feed in a faint pasture.
Lift up your head, be glad, take no sorrow,
And ye should ride home with us to morrow,
I say, when ye rested have your fill.
After supper, sleep will doen none ill,
Wrap well your head, clothes round about,
Strong nottie Ale will make a man to rout;
Take a Pillow, that ye lye not low;