My mate Dave is in Ozland
Sitting by the surf and sea
Temperature reaching 32
Or so he blithely tells me.
Well mate I'm in Yorkshire
And I'm not one of yer knockers
But there's a breeze around the Trossachs
And a distinct chilling of the okkers.
The central heating's on full power.
The doors are closed locked and barred,
And I'm trying to be cheerful
But mate sometimes it gets hard.
Global warming is fast approaching,
Or so we're constantly told,
So why this coming winter
Is it so bleeding cold?
And the stock market keeps on dropping,
And the pound's worth less and less
All beyond my comprehension
I really must confess;
But with tinnie in my hand
Of a nice Pilsner beer
I'm enjoying the great taste
And taking such good cheer
From the thought of Dave,
My good old Ozzie mate
Sitting there in warmth and comfort
Blathered in sun factor 98.
So Merry Christmas to you Dave,
And just before I end,
A very Merry Christmas too
To all my Poetic Friends.
I hope for us all
It's a season of good cheer
And all are able to forget
Likely it'll get worse next year.