Over the hills and a long way away
Is the land of eternal rain.
The sun, out of spite, has vacated this place
As it left on the plane to Spain.
Both sodden and soggy the wetlands thrive
For it's raining both night and day,
And sadly for children who live in this place,
There's nowhere outside they can play.
Rain pitters and patters on window and roof
And the birds never sing any more.
It splishes and splashes and sploshes again
On the roads outside everyone's door.
The rivers run fast and the waterfalls sing
To the tune of the endless stream.
The warmth of the sun on a soft golden beach
Must surely be part of a dream.
Copyright on all my poems
A friend in Lancashire (our next county) said that they get all the rain whilst we in Yorkshire keep the sunshine. Not true! But I wrote this poem especially for Phil. I hope he enjoys it in Lancashire.