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 Cock hath soldier's buskins on,

Strengthening and protecting,

Singularly every fault

Of his hens correcting:

So the Priest is bound to do,

Punishing transgression,

Making men in word and deed

Better by confession.

Cock, he rules a tribe of hens,

Laws and customs giving,

And hath many cares of heart

For their way of living:

Even thus parochial cure

Whoso entertaineth,

Let him learn and let him do

That which ordaineth.

Cock, he findeth grains of wheat,

And his hens he calleth,

Giving to the dearer ones

What to each befalleth:

Midst his people thus the clerk

Scripture nurture shareth,

And for sick, and poor, and maim'd

Providently careth.