And some sweare [by] his fleshe, his bloude, and hys fote; And some by hys guttes, hys lyfe, and herte rote; Some sweare by Gods nayles, hys herte, and his bodye; Some other woulde seme all sweryng to refrayne, And they invent idle othes, such is theyr idle brayne: By cocke and by pye, and by the goose wyng; By the crosse of the mouse fote, and by saynte Chyckyn. And some sweare by the Diuell, such is theyr blyndeness; Not knowyng that they call these thynges to wytnes, Of their consciences, in that they afirme or denye, So boeth sortes commit Most abominable blasphemie. (Furnivall 133,294) [ETA: switched two lines that I'm convinced the source transposed; it makes much more sense now.]Ah yes, Saint Chicken. That's the one who miraculously ran around for forty days and nights after his head was cut off and taken to Canterbury, right?
Also, I recently found out that Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog will sell you a shirt that says:
Okaye, so sometymes it raineth in March: make notte a chancerye case of the whole mattere.Hee.