The leaves are turning amber-brown,
The days becoming drear,
They say that summer's long since past,
Why, was it even here?
Oh yes, in countries farther south,
Or 'round that 'central line'
But then, down there and all year through,
The weather's always fine.
But farther north, around these isles,
The climate's not so hot,
To our dismay we have learnt to
Put up with what we've got.
So as before, in years gone by,
As winter looms, severe,
We'll batten down and live in hope
Of warmer climes, next year.