Thursday, July 05, 2012

Yt ys an epystle

From ye HOUSBOUNDE, away from the house on business, to hys GUDEWIFE, containing sundry matters of various sortes (c. 1550)

Gudewife! Fine greetings from thy housbounde deare,
Thogh I been far, I wyshe thatte I were neare.
I heare that in thy clymes the dayes growe colde - 
High tyme yt ys to press cheese in a moulde. 
I praye our cattes are healthy, & oure birdes; 
Please to make sure they do notte nicke the curdes. 
Hast thou a wynter cough, mayhap, or sneeze? 
I praye thee not to do yt on the cheese. 
I heare telle thatte thy hand is wounded sore - 
GREAT GRIEFE! Who'll turne the cheeses over more?  
But art thou tired, gudewife? Rest welle yn bedde - 
Lest whenne thou turnst the pattes, they weigh like unto leade.
And praye do not thyself hurt spynnyng flaxe, 
For yn a daye, or two, deare, we must waxe. 
& so, in Holye Cheese's name I pray- ...
Gude Jesu, in thy whole Edam to-day -...
Gude Lord, I praye for holye cheese thys yeare - 
& thou as well, Gudewife. Gudenight, my deare!


Legal Eagle said...

Love it!

TimT said...

Thank you muchly!

Email: timhtrain - at -

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