Summer

There's a steel grey sky and emerald grass,
And endless gentle rain.
As I walk to the village through puddles and mud.
Yes, it's summer once again.

Summer in Scotland was ever thus,
With its endless damp and cool.
It was like this since first I saw light
And before I went to school.

But now we are told that the world
Is warming all the time.
Oh if only that theory were ever true,
Then that would suit me fine.

But I fear that theory must be wrong
For I don't observe a change
As we warm ourselves in August
Beside the kitchen range.



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