He bare hym up, he bare hym down,
He bare hym into an orchard brown.

Lulley, lully, lulley, lully,
The faucon hath born my mak away.

In that orchard ther was an hall,
That was hanged with purpill and pall.
And in that hall ther was a bede,
Hit was hangid with gold so rede.

Lulley, lully, lulley, lully,
The faucon hath born my mak away.

And yn that bede ther lythe a knyght,
His wowndes bledyng day and nyght.
By that bedes side ther kneleth a may,
And she wepeth both nyght and day.

Lulley, lully, lulley, lully,
The faucon hath born my mak away.

And by that bedes side ther stondith a ston,
"Corpus Christi" wretyn theron.