General Prologue

Whan that Aprille 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;

—Geoffrey Chaucer

Gutteral Dialogue

Whan gutter fucked and sagged and split the eaves,
Rust ate the nails, and rot had perced the wood,
And bathed my brayn in dronken looping thought,
Of which the drip, a lot, dry-humps my will;