I love Ella Fitzgerald, really I do, but when she sang Summertime with such passion and warmth. She envoked feelings of sipping cocktails by the pool while the sun went down. Lazy days spent with friends and balmy evenings. Perfection.
She clearly didn’t sing it having battled two smalls in the confines of a house in suburban Leeds in the pissing down rain.
Here’s how my Summertime goes.Like butter wouldn’t melt.
Summertime, and the weather is shocking.
Rain is falling, indoors tempers are high.
Daddy’s at work, so Mummy’s hanging in there.
Please stop shouting, and don’t you dare sigh.
One of these mornings, you’re gonna wake up past dawn.
Mummy will smile, and probably lose her shit less.
Until that morning, Mummy’s still grumpy.
No we’re not crafting, I can’t deal with the mess.
Summertime, and the livin’ ain’t easy.
It’s been a few weeks, no they haven’t flown by.
Daddy’s at work, and Mummy’s feeling resentful.
I’m off to the toilet, for a tweet and a cry.
I let you watch Netflix, for much longer than usual,
I feel pretty bad, but can’t bear to decline.
Crafting ain’t fun, and your baking is awful,
Please don’t eat that. Someone pass me the wine.
Summertime, and we finally had sunshine.
The day was glorious, and the pollen was high.
We ventured outside, for a bit of a day trip.
Mummy sneezed and it all went awry.
Summertime, our relationship’s broken.
Kids I love you, but you can be bloody tough.
We’ll quickly forget it, and look forward to Christmas.
But for now September can’t come quick enough.
If you’re a REAL glutton for punishment you can see me
sing destroy the song here.
This poetic work of art was first published here. For more from Me, Annie Bee click on the image below or any of the recent posts!