This Heat (a.k.a. They’ll never happy)

I’m baking. I’m melting.
I’m drained and I’m beat.
I prefer a mild dry spell,
Not blistering heat.

It’s boiling for weeks,
And the novelty’s gone.
We appreciate sunshine,
Just not for this long.

But ah, alas,
Mo bhrón*, far too soon,
Cold, rain and wind.
So much for June…

Now we’re cursing the heavens.
Whence God gets fairly snappy,
Damn whinging Irish,
They’ll never be happy…

By DermyMcNally