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Oh, I love to go to Poland in the winter
And see the friendly snowploughs in the street;
But nothing leaves me number
Than a continental summer,
For I cannot cope with Poland in the heat.
When sunlight through the icy skies doth splinter,
I welcome it like long-lost kith or kin,
But the blazing August sun, it
Is abhorrent and I shun it,
And on such a day I’d sooner be within.

Oh, Kraków is so splendid in December
With icicles all hanging down the walls,
But when summer looms before us
Like a bored apatosaurus,
Then even such a lovely city palls.
I think it would be well if you’d remember
That pavement cafés simply aren’t my scene,
For, by choice, I’ll be positioned
In a bistro air-conditioned,
Sitting just adjacent to the ice machine.

Now some were born to dwell in sunny climates
And shiver at the slightest autumn breeze:
When the temperature is minus
They have trouble with their sinus
Or get funny kinds of clicking in their knees.
But I, perhaps unlike most other primates,
Feel healthy in the bracing snow and ice;
On the contrary, what rankles
Is those wretched swollen ankles
When the mercury is rising – it’s not nice!

Oh, I’ll go all over Europe in the winter,
And see the sights from Calais down to Rome;
And I think you ought to try it,
For it’s really calm and quiet
When the seekers of the sun are all at home.
If I travelled in the summer, I’d be skinter,
As well as hot and bothered, you can see –
Why, there’s every kind of reason
That I travel out of season,
So who would like to come and freeze with me?

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