The British are a hardy race
To live in such a rainy place,
Although the grass beneath is green
The blue above is rarely seen.
We take our pleasures seriously,
A glass of beer, a cup of tea,
Stiff upper lips remain in place,
Whatever trials we may face.
But now we live in changing times
And Britons move to warmer climes.
In small enclaves in France and Spain,
We huddle close, for mutual gain.
A glass of wine, a sunset view
Seems fair exchange for all we knew.
But others find this land of ours
A haven, not a place of showers.
They choose to come because they see
A land of opportunity,
Blue skies, warm seas, are not enough
When work is scant and times are tough.
Ignoring rain and cloudy skies
It's here their dreams are realised.
