Lord, why wolde he tho

Lord, why wolde he tho, Thulke wrechede Lucifer, Lepen on a-lofte In the northe syde, To sitten in the sonne side Ther the day roweth, Ne were it for northerne men, Anon ich wolde telle: Ac ich wolle lacke no lyf, Quath that lady sotthly. 'Hyt is sykerer by southe, Ther the sonne regneth, Than in the north, by meny notes, No man loyne other. For theder as the fend flegh, Hus fote for to sette, Ther he failede and fuel, And hus felawes alle. And helle is ther he is, And he ther y-bounde, Evene contrarie suteth Criste, Cierkus knowen the sothe, Dixit Dominus Domino meo, sede a dextris meis. 'Ac of this matere No more mene ich nelle, He was in the halyday After heten wayten, They care noght thauh it be cold Knaves wen thei worchen.'