Woman: I miss the time when that was pretty much a given...
Window reads: Bob N. Weave Re-election Headquarters
Sign reads: 27 days without texting any lewd photos of himself!
WHAN that Aprille with his shoures sooteThe droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,And bathed every veyne in swich licour,Of which vertu engendred is the flour;Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethInspired hath in every holt and heethThe tendre croppes, and the yonge sonneHath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,And smale fowles maken melodye,That slepen al the night with open ye,(So priketh hem nature in hir corages:Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;And specially, from every shires endeOf Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,The holy blisful martir for to seke,That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
WHAN that Aprille with his shoures sooteThe droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,And bathed every veyne in swich licour,Of which vertu engendred is the flour;Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethInspired hath in every holt and heethThe tendre croppes, and the yonge sonneHath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,And smale fowles maken melodye,That slepen al the night with open ye,(So priketh hem nature in hir corages:Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;And specially, from every shires endeOf Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,The holy blisful martir for to seke,That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.