Classic Poem

Of fantasye is all oure fare,
Olde and yonge and alle yfere;
But make we murye and slee care,
And worshipe we God whil we ben here,
Spende oure good and littel spare,
And uch mon cherise otheres chere.
Thenk how we, comen hider all bare,
Oure way-wending is in a were.
Pray we the prince that hath no pere
Take us hool to his mercy
And kepe oure concience clere,
For this world is but fantasy.