Twyt, Scot, go kepe thy den. Mell nat with Englyshe men. Thou dyd nothyng but barke At the castell of Warke. - John Skelton

PLA ce bo! Who is there, who? Di le xi! Dame Margery, Fa, re, my, my. Wherefore and why, why? For the soul of Philip Sparrow That was late slain at Carrow, Among the Nunnės Black. For that sweet soulės sake, And for all sparrows' souls, Set in our bead-rolls, Pater noster qui, With an Ave Mari, And with the corner of a Creed, The more shall be your meed.

She is the violet,
The daisy delectable,
The columbine commendable,
The jelofer amiable;
For this most goodly flower,
This blossom of fresh colour,
So Jupiter me succour,
She flourisheth new and new
In beauty and virtue.

The honor of Englond I lernyd to spelle,
In dygnyte roiall that doth excelle.