I am fired

I’m out of sorts and into parts
I’m out of sense and into hearts
I’m out of sorts and never start
I wish I’d  baked a courgette tart.

The weather is a ghastly farce
If this is April,I’m on Mars.
The rain it raineth every day
I wonder when  we’ll make some hay.

I’m out of sorts and  into spares
I’m out of mind and into cares.
I’m out of sorts and hurt  and tired
If I’m the boss then I am fired