Cold Cold Winter Poem by John Wathen

I can't stand the cold, cold winter.
The rain. The sleet. The snow.
I need the sun upon my back,
so its towards the South I go.
I head down to the Costa's,
or even the South of France.
The further south the better,
given half a chance.
I take me down to sunny Spain.
I really like it there.
I'm more your Valderama,
less your Val'd'isere.
You can keep your frozen North,
the place where the sun don't shine.
Give me some sun and sangria,
and I'll get by just fine.