It’s the Most Terrible Time of the Year

(This poem can be sung to the tune of

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year)

It’s the most terrible time of the year

with the temperatures swelling

and everyone smelling, you’ll be of bad cheer.

It’s the most terrible time of the year.

It’s the crap- crappiest season of all,

with those ‘hot enough?’ greetings

and miserable meetings with jerks in the hall.

It’s the crap- crappiest season of all.

There’ll be old people ghosting

and poor people roasting

and quarreling workers in woe.

There’ll be scary folk stories

and tales of the gories

of heat waves not so long ago.

It’s the most terrible time of the year.

There’ll be no chance of snowing

or cool breezes blowing,

but plenty warm beer.

It’s the most terrible time of the year.

There’ll be old people ghosting

and poor people roasting

and quarreling workers in woe.

There’ll be scary folk stories

and tales of the gories

of heat waves not so long ago.

It’s the most terrible time of the year.

There’ll be bad tempers growing

and sweat will be flowing

when summer is here.

It’s the most terrible time,

oh the most terrible time,

it’s the most terrible time of the year.