‘twas a soft-ish oul day and the sky was so grey,

and we’re all of us soaked to the skin.

Comin’ intae May and it’s spring so they say,

keep your muffler wrapped up to your chin.

 

We’ll keep our coats zipped ‘cause it’s cold as a crypt,

and we can’t see as far as the hills.

The winter still gripped ‘cause it’s not read the script,

and we’re all stricken down with the chills.

 

When the equinox knocked some folk went off half-cocked,

and they cast off their jumpers and vests.

They acted quite shocked as the rest of us mocked,

but they soon hurried back to their nests.

 

So at this time of year when the weather’s severe,

pay no heed to the calendar’s lies,

‘cause the spring won’t be here till the dark clouds all clear

and the sun’s taken over the skies.