Summertime

                   Summertime

                   We’ve inherited and understand
                   the tolerance we must show,
                   to learn and love, appreciate,
                   British summer’s winter snow.

                   Sweet candy-floss and sand castles,
                   knotted hankies on our heads.
                   Swimming trunks and wellington boots,
                   umbrellas and sunbeds.

                   Howling gales, temperate storms,
                   another low-pressure trough;
                   that interrupts a cricket match
                   and washes our sun-cream off.

                   The Queen, it’s said, will take her tea
                   on a summer’s afternoon;
                   With waterproofs and lightning rods
                   for a summer’s day monsoon.

                   But we don’t care; we’ll risk it all
                   for a glimpse of warm sunshine.
                   Because summer isn’t summer
                   without crimson swimsuit lines!

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