June! A jolly month; sech stunning weather.
Fan and I have lots of outs together:
Rorty on the river, sech prime 'unts,
Foul the racers, run into the punts.
Prime to 'ear the anglers rave and cuss,
When in quiet "swims" we raise a muss.
Snack on someone's lawn upon the quiet.
Won't the owner raise a tidy riot
When he twigs our scraps and broken bottles?
Cheaper this than rustyrongs or hottles,
Whitsuntide 'ud be a lot more gay
If it warn't so near to quarter-day.
Snip turns sour, pulls "county-courting" faces.
Must try and land a little on the races.