‘A walk to the Hurlers,
is just what you need.’ they said.
So, I set off straight away,
with my sturdy boots,
my rambling stick,
and my curlers still warm on my head.
‘It will leave you feeling awed and inspired’,
they told me -it was possibly true;
but, it was blowing a hoolie,
and cats and dogs
were falling from a sky,
that was the blackest shade of blue.
I watched, as the mizzle soaked me to the skin,
and the West wind knocked my socks off,
it was just the sort of weather
that would knock the steeples and their steeplecocks off.
I may have been hasty,
with my skin tone so pasty,
and my allergic reaction to rain;
so, when I came out in a rush,
I was soon out in a rash;
and made a mad dash for the tea-rooms.
Where I dripped a lot,