Onn Oure Ladies Chyrche

AS onn a hylle one eve sittynge, At oure Ladie's Chyrche mouche wonderynge, The counynge handieworke so fyne, Han well nighe dazeled mine eyne; Quod I; some counynge fairie hande Yreer'd this chapelle in this lande; Full well I wote so fine a syghte Was ne yreer'd of mortall wighte. Quod Trouthe; thou lackest knowlachynge; Thou forsoth ne wotteth of the thynge. A Rev'rend Fadre, William Canynge hight, Yreered uppe this chapelle brighte; And eke another in the Towne, Where glassie bubblynge Trymme doth roun. Quod I; ne doubte for all he's given His sowle will certes goe to heaven. Yea, quod Trouthe; than goe thou home, And see thou doe as hee hath donne. Quod I; I doubt; that can ne bee; I have ne gotten markes three. Quod Trouthe; as thou hast got, give almes-dedes soe; Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe.