HERE BE THE SWEVENE WHICHE DOTH TROBLE MY BRAIN
I saugh in feld thre cowes, ower sexe -- I have nat certaintie. Alle but oon flewe away, (yis, flewe -- thys semed a natural thyng in the dreme) and thys last cow was moost sadde. I told him we should loke for hys companye, and I toke him by the heltre. We walket, til the yvele Hoor of Babylyn apererd in ower wey, and quod "Ha ha, Katherine, thou shalt neevere get to Johne!!! And thy cow shall become mete!!! METE!!!!" I was ful destressen, so I toke oute a mitrailleuse and shot hir XXXXVII times (I thinke.) She yet was atwtche, so I bete hir to deeth with the gunne as she cried, then I stomped upon hir covrechief. She stille would nat deye, so I kikked his till she did nat move ayain. "Et bien tres bien, Cow -- we must hide thys bodie in the cesspoole er Johne should to thys mattir wisse-uppe!" The Cow toke hir heed within hys teth and I toke her by the fett.
Sin thys was the Hoor of Babylyn and I had cized Domesday by hir morder, I did nat feel badde about any of thys. We went to sinken hir in the rivire (now we were to put hir in a rivere, megesseth.) Whan she hit the watter, she was alyve ayain! I cried and threwe stoons upo hir, but ne dide she deye, and she was faminge blood all about! Then, the nooble cow jumped on hir and drowned hir, but eke, he did qwelle himselfe. (The poure Cow!) I did fele ful sadde for him. Then Richard-Henri le Potier flewe by and sayd "Ay, wherefore dostow nat dreme of me?" and I sayd "Swive thee, I think of other thynges ynow."
WHAT DOETH THYS FOREKNOWE????
O, and I saw this and ywot it were joly:
"Man, bewar of thin wowynge
For weddyng is the longe wo."