The Braggart

Summer has come to the Northwest;
Summer so fine and so fair.
Summer so long in its coming,
We're not always sure 'twill be here.

Rain for the rest of the country,
The fate that is usually ours.
The payoff for all of the dampness,
Green mountains and beautiful flowers.

We're pitied for all of our wetness,
But I am the first to confess
When it is nice here, it is REALLY nice.
We're drowning in loveliness.

We have not too much rain in the summer,
The other months carry us through.
We're not the ones now who are pitied;
We're basking and pitying you.

I know each loved state has its virtues
And its loyal daughters and sons;
So forgive us please now for our bragging
That we are the luckiest ones.

We carry umbrellas, wear slickers
From October right into May;
But now for awhile, we're wearing a smile
And little else, making our hay.

By: Joyce 6/02/03