Rain on Ukraine

 The fits and starts of summer

Tarts

The rain, the rain just falls

And I complain about Ukraine

But nothing else appalls

I walk in hearts and apple carts

Upset in old St Pauls

But don't news dart

Like newts that fart

all about waterfalls

The rain, the rain, the rain

That falls

In buckets from the clouds

And England's island is the size and

I cannot be more proud

I had fallen ill on top of the hill

An ailment faced with scorn

But whether it is time I kill

I did not know when born