Geoffrey Chaucer

   A good WIF was ther, OF biside BATHE,
   There was a WIFE of BATH, or a near city,

But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.
Who was somewhat deaf, it is a pity.

Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt,
At making clothes she had a skillful hand

She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.
She bettered those of Ypres and of Ghent.

In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon
In all the parish there was no wife to go

That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;
And proceed her in offering, it is so;

And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she,
And if one did, indeed, so angry was she

That she was out of alle charitee.
It put her out of all her charity.

Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground;
Her head-dresses were of finest weave and ground;

I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound
I dare swear that they weighed about ten pound

That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.
Which, on a Sunday, she wore on her head.

Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,
Her stockings were of the finest scarlet red,

Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe.
Tightly fastened, and her shoes were soft and new.

Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.
Bold was her face, and fair, and red of hue.

She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:
She'd been respectable throughout her life,

Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,
Married in church, husbands she had five,

Withouthen oother compaignye in youthe, -
Not counting other company in youth;

But therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.
But thereof there's no need to speak, in truth.

And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem;
Three times she'd travelled to Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a straunge strem;
And many a foreign stream she'd had to stem;

At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,
At Rome she'd been, and she'd been in Boulogne,

In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne.
In Spain at Santiago, and at Cologne.

She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye.
She could tell much of wandering by the way:

Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.
Gap-toothed was she, it is the truth I say.

Upon an amblere esily she sat,
Upon a pacing horse easily she sat,

Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat
Wearing a large wimple, and over all a hat

As brood as is a bokeler or a targe;
As broad as is a buckler or a targe;

A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large,
An overskirt was tucked around her buttocks large,

And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe.
And her feet spurred sharply under that.

In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.
In company well could she laugh and chat.

Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,
The remedies of love she knew, perchance,

For she koude of that art the olde daunce.
For of that art she'd learned the old, old dance.

spoken =Anniina Jokinen