It's whistling here,
It's howling there,
Round the building,
Up the stair.
It's such a pity,
That it's night,
'Cause this fine wind,
Could fly my kite,
Instead, it's keeping
Me awake.
Stop blowing wind,
For goodness sake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Breeze a jolly good fellow, Breeze a jolly good fellow. Join in Lizzy. (Couldn't resist!) Danny