Tick Tock, The Clock Won't Stop
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licóur
Of which vertú engendred is the flour;
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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licóur
Of which vertú engendred is the flour;