Poetry, Uncategorized

WASHOUT

Soggy, foggy, boggy and wet,

Met tells us it’s the wettest yet.

Mist and drizzle, wind and rain.

Summer’s ruined: what a pain.

200 millimetres of rain did fall,

We haven’t been down to the beach at all.

Beaks and feather’s is what we’ll grow.

With wobbly, webbed bits between each toe.

As ducks we’ll all be thrilled to bits;

Happy as pigs swimming in s**t.

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