‘twas a soft-ish oul day and the sky was so grey,

and we’re all of us soaked to the skin.

Comin’ intae May and it’s spring so they say,

keep your muffler wrapped up to your chin.

We’ll keep our coats zipped ‘cause it’s cold as a crypt,

and we can’t see as far as the hills.

The winter still gripped ‘cause it’s not read the script,

and we’re all stricken down with the chill...

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