That’s our summer over then,
The sun has been chased away,
Showers became torrential rain,
Despite what the forecasters say.
The gardens may need the water,
The grass being yellowed and dry,
No hosepipes allowed, a ban in place,
Water must fall from the sky.
As if we’d not had enough of it
Earlier on in the year,
Watching the river rising
And the boat roofs thereon appear
Over the banks behind us
Each swamped with waters new,
The wildlife in confusion as
Everything was lost from view.
Yet the gentle rhythm’s relaxing,
It aids in a good night’s sleep,
No floods likely aboard our boat,
Just as well, as it’s here all week!