At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig, There goes a brook, and over that a brig, Upon the whichë brook there stands a mill: And this is very sooth that I you tell. A miller was there dwelling many a day, As any peacock he was proud and gay: Pipen he could, and fish, and nettës bete, And turnë cups, and wrestle well, and shete. Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade, And of his sword full trenchant was the blade. A jolly popper bare he in his pouch; There was no man for peril durst him touch. A Sheffield whittle bare he in his hose. Round was his face, and camuse was his nose. As pilled as an apë’s was his skull. He was a market-beter at the full. There durstë no wight hand upon him legge, That he ne swore anon he should abegge.
A thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal, And that a sly, and used well to steal. His name was hoten deinous Simekin. A wife he haddë, come of noble kin: The parson of the town her father was. With her he gave full many a pan of brass, For that Simkin should in his blood ally. She was y-foster’d in a nunnery: For Simkin wouldë no wife, as he said, But she were well y-nourish’d, and a maid, To saven his estate and yeomanry: And she was proud, and pert as is a pie. A full fair sight it was to see them two; On holy days before her would he go With his tippét y-bound about his head; And she came after in a gite of red, And Simkin haddë hosen of the same. There durstë no wight call her aught but Dame: None was so hardy, walking by that way, That with her either durstë rage or play, But if he would be slain by Simekin With pavade, or with knife, or bodëkin. For jealous folk be per’lous evermo’: Algate they would their wivës wendë so. And eke for she was somewhat smutterlich, She was as dign as water in a ditch, And all so full of hoker, and bismare. Her thoughtë that a lady should her spare, What for her kindred, and her nortelrie That she had learned in the nunnery.