SPRINGTIME

Philip Evans

Poets write about the spring,

The flowers, and the birds that sing.

But I think it is a dreadful time,

Not worthy of a single rhyme.

The pollen, wafting everywhere,

For me, is poison in the air.

It makes me cough, and choke and sneeze

And gives my chest an awful wheeze.

When the days are bright and sunny

My eyes and nose are wet and runny.

And I have a ringing in my ears,

Until the wretched pollen clears

I fear I only sit and curse

At poets with their fancy verse.

I state in firm, emphatic prose,

That springtime gets right up my nose!

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