Now once we had a weatherman
On whom we could depend,
He’d send us fair and warmer days,
A shower now and then.
But now he has his wires all crossed–
He just can’t hit a thing.
I guess the job of weatherman
Just wasn’t meant for spring.
(Alternate)
I think he’d better hibernate
Until we’re clear of spring!
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 20, 1933
