Phew
Dawn phoned to ask me,
If I should like to write,
A poem for the Companion Club,
And I said, alright
She wanted me to call the poem Summertime,
As it was the Summer season.
Little did she know, I hate the Summer.
I am a Pom, so maybe that's the reason.
Summer in England is colder than in Oz.
Don't blink, or you may miss the heat
In England, that's because
We English folk are unused to heat
Like the people here in SA,
English Summertime weather
Sometimes lasts for only one day.
The sun doesn't shine so bright,
Or for weeks on end,
People here get sound sleep at night,
On this, they can depend
English fight for a cold spot,
Especially in bed at night,
They lay in a pool of sweat,
Trying with all their might,
To sleep,
In unbearable heat,
Drinking gallons of water and hanging
Swollen feet,
Out of the bed to cool,
Like a fool.
There is no cool air anywhere.
It is so darn hot I could weep
For sleep will not come in this heat
I will not drink another glass of water,
Even though I feel so dry
I will die,
If I have to use the loo again,
No matter how hard I try,
I have to go,
And so,
As I climbed wearily into bed,
A line of a song comes into my head,
I think it's from Porgy and Bess,
The words go like this, more or less
Summertime and the living is easy.
I find no ease in Summertime
I long for cooler days
I have no energy in a hundred degrees,
I just want to lounge and laze
My house and garden are neglected,
It's far too hot to work with might,
Roll on Autumn, cooler, calmer, golden,
After Summer's scarlet bite!
Some English people love the sun,
I prefer cooler climes,
Maybe it's the Pom in me
That so dislikes the Summertime.
(Phew!)
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