[Verse] Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; [Verse 2] Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth, Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, [Chorus] Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende [Verse 3] Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. Bifil that in that seson on a day, [Verse 4] In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght was come into that hostelrye [Chorus] Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye, Of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle In felaweship, and pilgrimes were they alle, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.
