It rains, and then we drip
our moans about the weather
Then the icy blast takes a grip
and we shiver huddled together

The howling winds that we abhor
and the leaves piled high in gardens
Forgotten summers we shared before
Hooded shapes bump then beg our pardons

We are on this island fickle at best
The weather, our enemy no matter what
Too warm to work or too cold to rest
A temperate climate? it's the best we've got!