We Brits love to gripe about the weather. We are a bit like two terriers, who’ll turn on each other if there’s no other dog to rag with! If we didn’t have the weather as a major part of our conversation, we’d have to find fault with other parts of our lives, and that might well show up our inadequacies! So here we are again, nearing the end of June, longest day behind us, and we have a committee of weathermen meeting somewhere looking into global warming. Now national warming, I’d like to see, just for a few days, just for long enough so I can make the bloody hay, to feed animals I don’t have. I must be daft (but then if you have read more than a few of my daily blogs, that will come as no surprise!)…
If you’re wondering where the sun has gone,
The days are full of gloom,
There’s still the chance of a touch of frost,
Don’t worry it’s the end of June!
And if you’re looking to park the blame,
“It’s his fault you want to say!”
Point the finger firmly at me,
We’re busy making hay!
As soon at the mower leaves the shed,
And the baler from hibernation awakes,
Global warming’s not here now,
Haymaking’s all it takes!
© Baldock Bard 2013
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