1. 

How impotent and grey this London sky

which sinks around the houses on my street,

encompassing the shadows, such as I,

who trail a pace behind their busy feet.

It's fog or drizzle every other day,

but Easter will be coming, and I'm going to fly away.

2. 

I ply with diligence my robot's trade

while scooping time from daylight's residue,

and thus the tedium may be delayed,

if not for good, then for an hour or two.

It's fog or drizzle every other day,

but Easter will be coming, and I'm going to fly away.

3. 

I ride in buses for the lofty run,

till dusk has come and shapes are blurred from sight,

yet conscious that, when all is said and done,

there still are colours in the blackest night.

It's fog or drizzle every other day,

but Easter will be coming, and I'm going to fly away.

4.

 If morning dawns again with dismal hue,

I'll listen to the tinkle of the rain,

and read into its cadence any clue

which brings to mind a more euphonic strain.

It's fog or drizzle every other day,

but Easter will be coming, and I'm going to fly away.