His beard was shaven closely to the skin,

His shorn hair came abruptly to a stop

Above his ears, and he was docked on top

Just like a priest In front; his legs were lean,

Like sticks they were, no calf was to be seen.

He kept his bins and garners very trim,

No auditor could gain a point on him.

And he could judge by watching drought and rain

The yield he might expect from seed and grain.

His master's sheep, his animals and hens,

Pigs, horses, dairies, stores and cattle-pens

Were wholly trusted to his government,

And he was under contract to present

The accounts, right from his master's earliest years.

No one had ever caught him in arrears.

No bailiff, serf or herdsman dared to kick,

He knew their dodges, knew their every trick;

Feared like the plague he was, by those beneath.

He had a lovely dwelling on a heath,

Shadowed in green by trees above the sward.

A better hand at bargains than his lord,

He had grown rich and had a store of treasure

His lord with subtle loans of gifts or goods,

To earn his thanks and even coats and hood.

When young he'd learnt a useful trade and still

He was a carpenter of first-rate skill.

Well tucked away, yet out it came to pleasure

Slung at his side. He came as I heard tell,

From Norfolk, near a place called Balderswell.

His coat was tucked under his belt and splayed.

The stallion-cob he rode at a slow trot

Was dapple-grey and bore the name of Scot.

He wore an overcoat of bluish shade

And rather long; he had a rusty blade

He rode the hindmost of our cavalcade.
 
 

Geoffrey Chaucer 1342-1400