Stephen Gold: The Misanthrope’s Year
(With apologies to Sarah Coleridge)
January brings us grief,
And jealous thoughts of Tenerife.
February brings more woe.
Iced-up cars refuse to go.
March brings fierce and filthy squalls,
That saturate us to our smalls.
April brings us showers so wet,
Pneumonia is a constant threat.
As cannot be too often stated,
What May brings is overrated.
Flaming June brings buzzing flies,
Blistered skin and stinging eyes.
July brings sizzling, sweat-soaked days,
Backed-up roads and flight delays.
August brings desire for coma,
And the chance of melanoma.
September brings an end to Summer,
Winter soon. Lord! What a bummer!
October brings autumnal clouds;
Damp, depressing, dismal shrouds.
November brings the gathering dark.
We’re stuck indoors, they’ve closed the park.
December brings foul debt and then,
It’s flaming January again!