Not A British Summer (Poetry)

Oh! wake me when it’s raining
and the thunder’s like a gun
these nights are one long fever
all this sweating is no fun

It’s a swelter of short tempers
brittle flash point’s close as Hell
with the air gone thick with cursing
and a stale unpleasant smell

This is not a British summer
nothing temperate on show
it’s a cauldron of hot swimmers
with no cooler beach to go

We’re all boiling in out jackets
like potatoes cruelly cooked
as an annual vacation
it’s so not the package booked

This is August — our home country
not some steaming tropic isle
we don’t go for clammy weather
tepid suits tradition’s style

We expect the chilly shower
set to spoil the village fête
these relentless scorching heatwaves
fire up days we natives hate

So don’t wake me till it’s raining
and the garden’s like a lake
all the while the world is melting
let me sleep for Heaven’s sake!