Classic Poem

(Ballade pour laquelle Villon crye mercy a chascun)

To Chartreux and to Celestins,
To Mendicants and to devotes ,
To idlers and to cliquepatins ,
To servants and to filles mignottes ,
Wearing surcotes and justes cottes ,
To all the young bloods that you see
Who wear o'er ankles soft-tanned boots:
To all these folk I cry Mercy!

To girls whose breasts are naked twins
To draw to them the eye that gloats,
To brawlers, clowns whose clamour dins,
To showmen training their marmottes ,
To Folz and Folles, Sotz and Sottes
Who pass by whistling frank and free,
To widows and to mariottes:
To all these folk I cry Mercy!

Except those traitors — chiens mastins!
Who made me gnaw their rotten crusts
And drink cold water for my sins
For whom I care not now three crottes .
I'd make them (here for words place dots)
But that I lie here sick, pardie!
No matter, to avoid their plots,
To all these folk I cry Mercy!

ENVOI

So long as their stout ribs get lots
Of mallet-blows dealt heavily.
Or strokes from whips with leaden knots,
To all these folk I cry Mercy!