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!