[Footnote: The ballad that Chaucer tells is a parody of the worn-out
poems of chivalrous adventure, in which the knight rides on endless
quests. These poems were still popular in Chaucer's day.]

Listen, lords and ladies gay,
I will sing my roundelay,
A song both gay and witty.
Sir Thopas was the knight yclept,
As bold a wight as ever stept,
The hero of my ditty.

Now he was born in Poperhinge,
The child of many a fond longing,
Upon a summer's day.
His father's house was in the square,
And he a powerful lordling there
In Flanders, miles away.

His skin was white as white could be,
Like lilies from the deep valley,
His lips were blushing roses.
His cheeks were pink and fair to see,
And (on my troth) possesséd he,
The seemliest of noses.

Golden as saffron was his hair,
Golden his beard that stretched so fair
Down to his girdle strong.
From Cordova his shoes they name,
His hosen brown from Brugge came,