I – Ye Drunkenness of Knayves & Apprentyces atte Brygstowe

Unkleene cytee.
Atte ye yers turnynge, and thærafter yette,
’tys thenne ye saysoun for ye plantynge owtte
of plastyk bagges, and fowles bones, and cardbowr’d stuffs.
Uponne detrytus sich as thys, formyngge anne agar bayse,
and bye ye drinquers’ vomyt haplee nurishéd,
and trampléd downe bye scabrous fete of knayves
bæryngge of caynyn bothe ye scatte and smær,
and eke ye veree maculayted marke,
engend’red ys ye nowbyl rotte,
Botrytys cyneræa.

Now cummen forth fromme fastnesses fyers orcs
who, fromme ye hy-vyz vestys they sportte, dyryv
a spuryows authorytee. Thees do brooke noe dyssente,
nor doe villaines howsoever churlysh gyv hem gyp,
butte suffer hem toe harveste ye composted mulch,
wych they doe gather uppe ynne other plastyk bagges
they heoff presysly fore thys purpows kept prystyne.

Thees kuntes, along wyth dyvers swynkyngge yeomenne, hens
doe bær thatte fylth wych all yær in ye gutters fermented,
untoe a growv wær bærded wyzards pryvyly
mayntayne anne artysaynal cyder presse.
Nowe doe thees latter loons, mowst wondrowslee,
and guyded bye thær arcayn bokes of spellys,
in wych alle recondyt ynsanytee ys wryt,
dyvys those fell receiptys bye wych ye munters swær,
who in ye Bærpit’s desolacioun swygge fromme cannes
ye Wyt Ace, monkish Buckfast, and ye Special Broo,
and bye sich means lyk Circe’s oynkers are
transform’d.