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

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.
And 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

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Reply, I'm all eyes.

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