A CompēDious Olde Treatyse Poem by William Barlow

Though I am olde clothed ī barbarous wede
Nothynge garnysshed with gaye eloquency
Yet I tell the trouth yf ye lyst to take hede
Agaynst theyr frowarde furious frenesy
Which recken it for a great heresy
And vnto laye people greuous outrage
To haue goddes worde in their natyfe langage
Enemyes I shall haue many a shoren crowne
With forked cappes and gaye croosys of golde
Which to maynteyne ther ambicious renowne
Are glad laye people in ignorance to holde
Yet to shewe the verite one maye be bolde
All though it be a prouerbe daylye spoken
Who that tellyth trouth his head shalbe brokē.