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March 16, 2006
Essex Spring
In north-east Essex, when it's spring The schedule doesn't mean a thing At least not to the stubborn wind By which the season's underpinned The sun is strong, the blackthorn snows The dirty evening darkness goes But still the east wind slices throats Mocking scarves and cutting coats Pinching, clenching, killjoy crone Tacking inland up the Colne Flinging insults at the sun And ruining the tourists' fun She comes to visit, Easter Day And often lingers all of May
Writes Martin Newell in his pome "Shipshape Part II", and ne'er a truer word said. "Spring", as in "spring surprise" (where the Easterly wind pops out unexpectedly and pierces both cheeks and both eyeballs, before ripping your ears off for a finale).
Posted by daen at March 16, 2006 01:30 PM