When it’s very very hot, not simply warm or fine,
When leaves are dry and roads could fry an egg,
When everyone gets pink or red, even in the shade,
And drips of sweat all trickle down your leg,
When it’s so very very hot that everyone is quiet,
And it’s too hot to put it into words,
Have you ever stopped to wonder, when looking at the sky,
Have you ever asked, “My gosh! Where are the birds?”
You’ll notice when it’s sweltering, the air is lacking songs
As much as it lacks breeze or drops of rain.
It’s cos the birds are smart – they make a plan for days like this
So they don’t have to whinge and sweat in pain.
The birds, you see, they organize. They make a cunning scheme.
They all fly out to sea and sit on boats.
They dip and dive to cool their beaks, they splash among the waves,
They gently land on water and they float.
So next time it is stifling, the next time it is fierce,
The next time that you’re baking to the core,
Just think of all the seagulls, the sparrows and the doves,
Sitting, sipping sodas, on the shore.