With hey troly loly, lo whip here Jak,
Alumbek, sodyldym syllorym ben,
Curiously he can both _counter_ and knak,
Of Martin Swart, and all his merry men;
Lord, how Perkyn is proud of his Pohen,
But ask wher he findeth among his _monachords_
An holy-water-clark a ruler of lordes.
He cannot fynd it in _rule_ nor in _space_,
He _solfyth_ too haute, hys _trybyll_ is too high,
He braggyth of his byrth that borne was full base,
Hys musyk _withoute mesure, too sharp_, is _his 'my'_,
He trymmeth in his _tenor_ to _counter_ pardy,
His _descant_ is besy,[15] it is without a _mene_,
Too fat is his fantsy, his wyt is too lene.
He tumbryth on a _lewde lewte_, Rotybulle Joyse,
Rumbill downe, tumbill downe, hey go, now now,
He _fumblyth in his fyngering_ an ugly rude noise,
It seemyth the sobbyng of an old sow:
He wolde be made moch of, and he wyst how;
Well sped in spindels and tuning of travellys
A bungler, a brawler, a picker of quarrels.
Comely he clappyth a _payre of clavicordys_
He _whystelyth_ so swetely he maketh me to swet,
His _discant_ is dashed full of _discordes_,
A red angry man, but easy to intrete; etc.
[Footnote 15: 'Besy,' that is, 'busy,' meaning 'fussy,' a bad fault in
descant, as it is to this day in counterpoint.]