My Land is of Extremists.
Yes. Of Extremists my dear!
As every thing is annually dull
And seasonally extreme here!
Delightful sun burns with extreme
During some scorching noon's of Mays,
And lovely rain, feeling coolness before
Falls extreme in some August days.
The winter blossom N’ pleasant chill
Freezes us in December
Then someone calls for warmer sun
As stone cold became extremer.
We produce patriots in millions
During the days of Augustus
And we find thousands ready to die
Only when the neighbor targets us.
