The Wrenne hadde ys nest in the carre schadde. Onys weren the
holde foules bothe atflowen sechende somedel to ete for there yunge, and
the litille briddes
bade plat all one.
An-on coom Fader Wrenne home agen.
“What happenyd heir,” frayned he, “who hath anoyed you, childer?
Ye semen to be gretly of-frught!”
“Lo, Fader!” quoden they, “an un-wight coom heir forby ryght nou. He
staryd yn to oure neste with ys michel eyn. For that ar we thos skerryd.”
“Avoy!” quod Fader Wrenne, “whitherward hath he gane?”
“Wel,” anseweryden they, “he hath gane thitherward.”
“Bydeth!” quod Fader Wrenne, “I schall efter him! Beth not afrayed,
childer! I schall him wel a-taken.” Therapon pursywed he him.
Tho he coom umbe the herne was that the lyon amblende thare alonge.
Ac the Wrenne was not forferyd. He alyghtyd apon the lyones rugge
and bigonne to flyten, “What nede hauestu to beonne by mine
hous and to
a-feren mine
litille childer?”
Ac the lyon entendyd not these wurdes ac amblyd away.
That terryd the doughty litille Wrenne yit more, and he bigonne to
yellen bremely, “Nan ryght hauestu to beonne thare! And
cumystu agen,”
quod he, “thenne
schallstu i-seon. I wille hit not lelliche don,” quod
he and therapon lyfted an of
ys leggis, “ac I schall breken thine rugge with an stappe!”
Therapon flogh he agen to ys neste.
“Nouthe, childer,” quod he, “him haff I leryd a lesson.
Neueremore schall he comen agen.”
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