Classic Poem

Of thes Frer Minours me thenkes moch wonder,
That waxen are thus hautein that somtime weren under:
Among men of Holy Chirch thay maken mochel blonder.
Now he that sites us above make ham sone to sonder.
With an O, and an I, thay praisen not Seint Poule,
Thay lyen on Seint Fraunceys, by my fader soule!

First thay gabben on God, that all men may se,
When thay hangen him on hegh on a grene tre,
With leves and with blossemes that bright are of ble —
That was never Goddes son, by my leute!
With an O, and an I, men wenen that thay wede,
To carpe so of clergy — thay can not thair crede!

Thay have done him on a crois fer up in the skye,
And festned in him wyenges as he shuld flye:
This fals, feined belefe shall thay soure bye,
On that lovelich Lord so for to lie.
With an O, and an I, one said full still,
" Armachan destroy ham, if it is Goddes will."

A cart was made all of fire as it shuld be:
A gray frer I sawe therinne that best liked me.
Wele I wote thay shall be brent, by my leaute!
God graunt me that grace that I may it se!
With an O, and an I, brent be thay all,
And all that helpes therto, faire mot befall.

Thay preche all of povert bot that love thay noght;
For gode mete to thair mouthe the town is thurgh soght;
Wide are thair wonninges and wonderfully wroght,
Murdre and whoredome full dere has it boght.
With an O, and an I, for sixe pens er thay faile,
Sle thy fadre and jape thy modre and thay will thee assoile!