WORCESTER WEATHER

In my writers garret
Up above the eaves,
Looking through the Velux
There's part of me believes
IT'S ALWAYS WET IN WORCESTER!
It seems to rain all day,
There's always black clouds overhead
At best a washed out grey.
I've been here now for o'er three years
The place is e'er in flood,
It's made by joints rusty
It's watered down my blood:
I can't hang out my washing
Or drink beer in the sun,
I sometimes wish I was a duck
At least that might be fun.
In truth it don't rain all the time
As everybody knows,
Some days for variety
IT ONLY BLOODY SNOWS!

COPYRIGHT D M PAMMENT 2nd FEBRUARY 2010