A Yong Squier

... A yong Squier... he was

A lovyere and a lusty bacheler,

With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse.

Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.

Of his stature he was of evene lengthe,

And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe...

Embrouded was he, as it were a meede,

Al ful of fresshe floures whyte and reede.

Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day;

He was as fressh as is the month of May.

Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde.

Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde.

He koude songes make and wel endite,

Juste and eek daunce...

So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale

He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale.

La, la, la