Classic Poem

Now bernes, buirdes, bolde and blithe,
To blessen you her now am I bounde;
I thonke you alle a thousend sithe,
And prey God save you hol and sounde;
Wherever ye go, on gras or grounde,
He you governe withouten greve.
For frendschipe that I here have founde,
Ageyn my wille I take my leve.

For frendschipe and for giftes goode,
For mete and drinke so gret plente,
That Lord that raught was on the roode—
He kepe thy comely cumpayne.
On see or lond, wher that ye be,
He governe you withouten greve.
So good disport ye han mad me,
Ageyn my wille I take my leve.

Ageyn my wille althaugh I wende,
I may not alwey dwellen here;
For every thing schal have an ende,
And frendes are not ay ifere.
Be we never so lef and dere,
Out of this world all schul we meve;
And whon we buske unto ur bere,
Ageyn ur wille we take ur leve.

And wende we schulle, I wot never whenne,
Ne whoderward that we schul fare;
But endeles blisse or ay to brenne
To every mon is yarked yare.
Forthy I rede uch mon beware,
And lete ur werk ur wordes preve,
So that no sunne ur soule forfare
Whon that ur lif hath taken his leve.

Whon that ur lif his leve hath laught,
Ur body lith bounden by the wowe,
Ur richesses alle from us ben raft,
In clottes colde ur cors is throwe.
Wher are thy frendes who wol thee knowe?
Let see who wol thy soule releve.
I rede thee, Mon, ar thou ly lowe,
Be redy ay to take thy leve.

Be redy ay, whatever bifalle,
All sodeynly lest thou be kight;
Thou wost never whonne thy Lord wol calle;
Loke that thy laumpe be brenninge bright;
For leve me well, but thou have light,
Right foule thy Lord wol thee repreve,
And fleme thee fer out of his sight,
For all too late thou toke thy leve.

Now God that was in Bethleem bore,
He give us grace to serve him so
That we may come his face tofore,
Out of this world whon we schul go;
And for to amende that we misdo,
In cley or that we clinge and cleve,
And mak us evene with frend and fo,
And in good time to take ur leve.

Now haveth good day, gode men alle,
Haveth good day, yonge and olde,
Haveth good day, bothe grete and smalle,
And graunt-mercy a thousend folde!
If evere I mighte, full fain I wolde,
Don ought that were unto you leve;
Crist kepe you out of cares colde,
For now is time to take my leve.