Ye old mule that think your self so fayre

Ye old mule that think your self so fayre,
Leve off with craft your beautie to repaire.
For it is time withoute any fable ;
No man setteth now by riding in your saddell ;
To muche travaill so do your train apaise,
Ye old mule !

With fals favoure though you deceve thayes.
Who so taste you shall well perceve your layes
Savoureth som what of a kappurs stable,
Ye old mule !

Ye must now serve to market and to faire,
All for the burden, for pannyers a paire ;
For syns gray heres ben powdered in your sable,
The thing ye seke for you must yourself enable
To pourchase it by payement and by prayer,
Ye old mule !