| | For al thy song and thy mynstralcye | |
| | For al thy waytyng blerid is thyn ye | |
| | With one of litil reputacion | |
| 150 | Not worth to the in no comparison | |
| | The mountaunce of a gnat so moot I thryue | |
| | For on thy bed thy wyf I saw hym swyue | |
| | What wol ye more the crowe anon hym tolde | |
| | By sad tokenys and by wordis bolde | |
| 155 | How that his wyf hadde don her lecherye | |
| | Hym to gret shame and to gret vilonye | |
| | And tolde hym eft he saw it with his yen | |
| | This Phebus gan a weyward forto prien | |
| | Hym thoughte his herte brest a two | |
| 160 | His bowe he bent and set ther ynne a flo | |
| | And in his Ire he hath his wyf slayn | |
| | This is the effect ther is nomore to sayn | |
| | For sorow he brak his mynstralsie | |
| | Bothe harpe and lute / geterne and sawtrie | |
| 165 | And eek he brak his arowis and his bowe | |
| | And aftir that thus spak he to the crowe | |
| | Traitour quod he with tunge of scorpion | |
| | Thou hast me brought to my confusion | |
| | Alas that I was wrought why nere I ded | |
| 170 | O dere wyf O gemme of lusty heed | |
| | That were to me so sad and eek so trewe | |
| | Now liest thou ded with face pale of hewe | |
| | Ful giltlees that durste I swere iwys | |
| | O rakyl hond to do so foule amys | |
| 175 | O troubil wit O Ire recheles | |
