Idleness

I do not care much for the weather today
Which is windy and wet and chilly and grey.
I'd hoped for a break, for warmth and for sun,
There's a chance in that way, things to do could be done.

Instead it is blowing a merry old gale
Which in Scotland I regret is too often the tale.
So I won't do the planting and mowing and such
And just sit here moaning and not doing much.

I've been doing not much for most of the week,
And the month and the year as well if you like.
In fact all this idleness is now well enshrined
And long ago started affecting my mind.

But I'm sure, were it sunny and warmish outside
I'd go out to do. Then at least I'd have tried.
But it's windy and wet, and I'd rather sit here
With my pen in my hand, and a bottle of beer.



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