This ioly lyf han thise two clerkes lad Til that the thridde cok bigan to synge Aleyn wax wery in the dawenynge For he hadde swonken al the longe nyght And seyde fare wel Malyn swete wight The day is come I may no lenger byde But euere mo wher so I go or ryde I is thyn awen clerk so haue I sel Now deere lemman quod she go farewel But er thow go o thyng I wol thee telle Whan that thow wendest homward by the Melle Right at the entree of the dore bihynde Thow shalt a Cake of half a busshel fynde That was ymaked of thyn owene mele Which that I heelp my sire for to stele And good lemman god thee saue and kepe From Hk Taketh all youre gere feire to hepeAnd with that word almoost she gan to wepe Aleyn vp rist and thoghte er that it dawe I wol go crepen In by my felawe And fond the Cradel with his hond anon By god thoghte he al wrang I haue mysgon Myn heed is toty of my swynk to nyght That maketh me that I go noght aright I woot wel by the Cradel I haue mysgo Here lyth the Millere and his wyf also And forth he gooth on twenty deueleway Vn to the bed ther as the Millere lay He wende haue cropen by his felawe Iohn And by the Millere In he creep anoon And caughte hym by the nekke and softe he spak