Een liedtboecxken, tracterende van den offer des Heeren.

All here we die well together,
How spiritually we are all one family.
Eight monks are there come,
To torment that godly seed,
But they have not accepted,
The advice of the false prophets.
Take off your long clothes,
Grietken has said to them,
Roma.2.c.21.† Before you want to teach another,
Make yourself yet first prepared.
Psa.44.c.23. Rom.8.d.36.‡ As slaughter-sheep they are led,
To death as Paul teaches,
Voluntarily prepared for that,
And in no way desires revenge.
The monks went along,
Stay behind, they have said,
We know you well, let us be with you,
For to hear you we are not prepared.
On the scaffold Joris came first,
And spoke to the people very joyfully:
Know that we do not die,
1.Pet.4.c.15* For theft, murder, or heresy.
This same thing Maenken said,
Then became the monks angry;
After that one led Wouter up,
Gentle as a lamb.
After that are they all four,
Fallen on their knees,
In prayers in the Christian manner,
Where the burnt-offering would happen.

They kissed each other there on the spot,
Very friendly on the mouth,
2.Cor.13.b.12. 1.Pet.5.b.14† All with the kiss of peace,
This was the last hour.
To the people one saw them speak,
Friendly with a happy demeanor,
Which the monks wanted to avenge,
And stood before them very wickedly.
One from the people shouted against them:
Hear you enraged Antichrists,
Stand behind out of the way,
Let the women speak sweetly.
Wouter spoke at the same time:
Citizens of Ghent, hear my admonition,
Know that we do not suffer,
As Heretics or Lutherans,
Who in one hand [have] the pot with beers,
In the other have the Testament,
God’s word in drunkenness practice,
Through which the truth is shamed.
By the throats they are hung,
With a rope, but not strangled;
Where they now were in the constraint,
Have they cared for each other,
Saying: Let us bravely struggle,
For this is our last torment,
Hereafter shall we rejoice,
With God in joy without end.
Now hanging in that pain,
Before the fire is lit.