Compleynt, compleynt I hearde upon a day,
Artemis singing, Artemis, Artemis
Agaynst Pity lifted her wail:
Pity caused the forests to fail,
Pity slayeth my nymphs,
Pity spareth so many an evil thing.
Pity befouleth April,
Pity is the root and the spring.
See my earlier comment (XXVIII), which I stand by. It's as crap as Ez's parodie of "Summer is icumen in", which I can't bring myself to type out. If you wish, you should be able to find it easily enough.
The rest of the canto seems to be about the development of printing and typefaces, and ends with the death of the Pope Alessandro Borgia.
So ends the "Draft of XXX Cantos", not with a bang but