Wednesday, January 18

Where's the rain, I want to know.
I need it for my stuff to grow.
I need it 'cause my grass is dead:
The weatherman has got no cred'.


He said the rain would come tonight
And so I cleaned my yard up tight
And hunkered down to wait it out;
The weatherman has got no clout.


"It's all up North," he says to me,
"The wind up there is blustery."
But here I sit as dry as chalk,
The weatherman is just all talk.


Perhaps one day the rain will fall,
Perhaps one day the winds will call.
But not because he said it would;
The weatherman is just no good.