Classic Poem

Freeres, freeres, wo ge be!
ministri malorum,
For many a mannes soule bringe ge
ad pœnas infernorum.
Whan seyntes felle fryst from hevene,
quo prius habitabant,
In erthe leyfft the synnus vii.,
et fratres communicabant.
Falnes was the ffryst fflauré
quœ fratres pertulerunt;
For falnes and ffals derei
multi perierunt.
Freeres, ge can weyl lye,
ad fallandum gentem;
And weyl can blere a mannus ye
pecunias habentem.
Yf thei may no more geytte,
fruges petunt isti;
For: falnes walde thei not lette,
qui non sunt de grege Christi.
Lat a freer of sum ordur
tecum pernoctare,
Odur thi wyff or thi doughtour
hic vult violare;
Or thi sun he weyl prefur,
sicut furtam fortis;
God gyffe syche a freer peyne
in inferni portis!
Thei weyl assaylle boyth Jacke and Gylle,
licet sint prœdones;
And parte off pennans take hem tylle,
qui sunt latrones.
Ther may no lorde of this cuntré
sic œdificare,
As may thes freeres, where thei be,
qui vadunt mendicare.
Mony-makers I trow thei be,
regis proditores,
Therfore ylle mowyth thei thee,
falsi deceptores.
Fader fyrst in Trinité,
filius, atque flamen.
Omnes dicant Amen.