Even older than Brucie, this one. Alright, just older than Brucie...

Ic eom wunderlicu wiht, wifum on hyhte,
neahbuendum nyt; nængum sceþþe
burgsittendra, nymþe bonan anum.
Staþol min is steapheah, stonde ic on bedde,

neoþan ruh nathwær. Neþeð hwilum
ful cyrtenu ceorles dohtor,
modwlonc meowle, þæt heo on mec gripeð,
ræseð mec on reodne, reafað min heafod,
fegeð mec on fæsten. Feleþ sona

mines gemotes, seo þe mec nearwað,
wif wundenlocc. Wæt bið þæt eage.

Or, if you prefer,

I'm the world's wonder, for I make women happy
--a boon to the neighborhood, a bane to no one,
though I may perhaps prick the one who picks me.
I am set well up, stand in a bed,
have a roughish root. Rarely (though it happens)
a churl's daughter more daring than the rest
--and lovelier! --lays hold of me,
and lays me in larder.
She learns soon enough,

the curly-haired creature who clamps me so,
of my meeting with her: moist is her eye!