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See notes in F A Q

(Initial stanzas missing from source)

This was the tenour of her talkynge

Timor mortis conturbat me.

I a~ked that byrde what ~he ment

I am a mu~ket fayre & gent

For fere of dethe I am all ~hent

Timor mortis conturbat me

Whan I ~hall dye I know no day

Contrey nor place I can not ~ay

Wherfore this ~onge ~ynge I may.

Timor mortis conturbat me.

Je~u chry~te whan he ~holde dye

To his father gan he crye

Father he ~ayd in trynyte

Timor mortis conturbat me.

All chry~ten people beholde & ~e

This worlde is but a vanyte

For therin is but nece~~yte

Timor mortis conturbat me.

Wake or ~lepe, eat or drynke

Whan I on my la~t ende do thynke

For great fere my ~oule doth ~ynke

Timor mortis conturbat me.

                    Finis.