January's frost and snow <br />makes your central heating blow. <br />February? That's no better; <br />almost as cold, and a good deal wetter. <br /> <br />March is windy, so they say - <br />I'd add gloomy, grim and grey. <br />Then April's showers join together <br />to give a month of drenching weather. <br /> <br />In May you may see skies of blue <br />but flying pigs are possible too. <br />In 'flaming' June the days are longer, <br />But sky's as black, and rain falls stronger. <br /> <br />July brings thunder, lightning, storm. <br />Ah well, at least the rain is warm. <br />August - at last the sun comes out; <br />Turn the hose off, it's a drought. <br /> <br />September - stifling, hot and dry - <br />Makes you long for wet July. <br />October then brings early chill <br />- and pouring rain. Oh what a thrill! <br /> <br />November - dull, drab, dank, and dismal; <br />of all the months the most abysmal. <br />Oh no, that's wrong; now I remember <br />It's more abysmal in December. <br /> <br />Snow, hail or thunder, storm or flood <br />don't bother those of English blood. <br />Let any kind of weather come! <br />Stiff upper lip, chaps, don't be glum. <br /> <br />Rejoicing in our heritage <br />we'll stick it out through every age, <br />and shout abroad both near and far, <br />'Our weather makes us what we are' <br />- blooming miserable.<br /><br />Paul Hansford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-english-calendar/
