It's June! It can't be!
Not already. Where has the year gone?
I swear it gets shorter every year.
"Ne'er cast a cloot, ‘til May be out",
Granny always taught us.
Turned the heating off last week,
Now look at us, that will teach you,
Should have listened to Granny!
British Summers, who would have them,
You couldn't make it up.
Glorious sunshine, kids on the beach,
Sandcastles, ice-creams, paddling in the sea,
Five minutes later it's pouring down.
Everything has a dual purpose,
Keep the sun off as a parasol and rain as an umbrella
And your colourful sun-trap becomes a windbreak.
The British are known for their sense of humour,
But let's face it we need it,
When you consider the hand Mother Nature deals us,
In Scotland all the locals will tell you,
If you don't like the weather stick around,
It will all be different in an hour or two,
But come on, let's be honest, when the chips are down,
We wouldn't have it any other way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem