Rainy days


(The Met office were wrong again)
February blew away
(They haven’t found her to this day)
March, April, May was much the same
Mud slides, derailed our Easter trains.
June, July, August was all monsoons
Our plans for the summer lay in ruins
Tho’ some escape to Italy or Spain
Where locals there think ‘Brits’ are insane
When it’s time for an afternoon siesta
The mad dogs and the English sit ‘n’ blister.
Then fall back to September’s April showers
Autumn rain puts paid to August’s flowers
October’s harvest crop was such a flop
Sandbags blocked the houses, schools and shops
November and December
I’d rather not remember
But no one’s dreamin’ of a wet Christmas
This rotten weather wrecks Santa’s business
And all year long the cows lie down and cry
A bolt of lightnin’ splits the sky in two
And another British year begins ‘anew’
Paul Stephenson,
Simonside