Weather; Bleeping Brit Weather

If you live in England you will know
That Weather could very well blow
Your hat off your head and make you bow
Until you gasp for breath and vow
To take the first flight out of this cow
Of a country where the sun's low

Happened to me one weekend
We marched in a storm no end
Icy gusts whipping us front and end
Winds howling in our ears you understand
We were after hot tea, scones with jam and
Clotted cream, courtesy of The Orchard land

On the way back there was hail
And snow and rain and joggers trail
Still we marched and marched without fail
Our bare faces pushing againt the gale
Our skins looking all colours but pale
We wanted to get home and check email
We knew it would be foolish to rail
For Weather would only laugh not quail