VERSE
When children are building their snowmen
And skis and toboggans appear
I hope you won’t think I am grumpy
But it’s always the same every year.

Unless you are awfully skinny
It’s hard to get onto the train
So I want to drive off in my motor-car
And I’m writing to you to complain:

CHORUS (all together):
Where are all the gritters?
While Boris Johnson twitters,
Our greenhouse gas emitters
Are stranded in the snow.

It’s quite a contradiction
Our fossil fuel addiction
Has robbed us of our friction
There’s nowhere we can go.


It needs a second verse and chorus, possibly a bridge or dance break, and a final rousing chorus, but I don’t have time right now. I feel it should ideally be sung around an old piano while swinging jugs of ale.