The Winchester Pilgrims

Spring is the verray best of times some say
upon a pilgrimage to make ones way
and those that hold this view to be the best
will march their way thro mud with alle the rest
who rush in Aprill showeres and wade
the paths and tracks that May hath sodden made.
to Holy Rome they will their journey mak
or else to Compostella for Saint Jamys sak
mayhap Jerusalem to weep at Jhesus tomb
or Bethlehem in praise of Marys womb
and so travail unto the worldes ende
their sorry souls and Ignorance to mende
whan if they were possessed of any wit
for these journeys they wold not give a shit
instead as any wight who wot half well
they wolde of Engelonds fine pilgrimages tell
and set to travel in the month of June
without wet hedes and eke with drye schoon
To Winchester do canny Pilgrims tread
And At St Cross partake of beer and bread
then in the Hundred Men’s hall take their rest
and pass the eve with merry tale and jest
and waking walk to good St Swithun’s Shrine
As I and others have done in my time
Those folk withwhom in Compaygnie I went
I shall relate, untill their tellings spent

A GUNNER travelled in that compaygnie
a master skilled with all artillerie
who koude relate the type and provenance
of every kind of shot and ordianance.
His craft koude so preserve a powder train
that bombards koude he discharge in the rain
and eke beneth the sorching desert sunne:
to him were alle the weathers alle as one.
Well shod he was, and clothéd all in Brown.
so pleased was he to see Winchester town
that all the whiles his face lit in a grin
and swich a face for smiles to litten in!
I faith it were more brown than were his schoon
and rounder in its aspect than the moon
like to a gunstone alle besmotered black
his pate and chops for hair did wholly lack
but on his lippe a grete mustache there hung
About his neck a rosary was slung
His Scrip and staff completed his array.
His Name was Logan, no more need I say

The MAIDEN cleped Katharine was there
freshe as the springe, and every bit as fair
Hir Hair were flaxen and hir body tall
Hir armes, legges and hir waist withall
were slender. Of hir hippes and eke hir chest
wold ne man sooth but they were of the beste
Hir faders keeping were a tenys court
of that games pleyers were she swich a sport
So fine hir stokes and swootely mad hir calls
alle men who match hir must hazard their balls
alas she pleyed too much,  hir foot were pained
when others left she at St Cross remained 

Hir GRANDSIRE eke were on that Pilgrimage
A hoary wight of grizzled stern visage
with craggy brow and by his side a sword
he made a goodly keeper of his ward
for all he hadde seen many a bloody fray
and desperate batailles been in in his day
yet were he merry as the day is long
full ready with rousing tale or bawdy song
as well koude he set compagnie in cheer
as instantly set naughty knaves in fear
his gown were sombre of a sober black
of velvet stuff and of gode fur no lack
rich jewels on fingers breast and throat he bore
and many a Sayntes badge on hat he wore
an old campaigner cam he with a train
of sumpters four and of fine palfreys twain
his aged bones took counsel of his head
his baggage held a comfortable bed
his arms displayed alert all passers by
to Matthew Baker, Signieur Ille d’Orgueil