The Poet of Oz

Alan Smith -- a poet's blog --

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January 30, 2005

The Weather Forecaster's Tale

Written in a 'modernised' Chaucerian style

An occupation sadly much maligned
With words like stupid, deaf and dumb and blind
They hide out in the suburbs have no doubt
The weather men who put our forecasts out
These 'nongs of wrong' may even live next door
Well here's some clues, so you can tell for sure.
A Morris Minor, garaged every day
Except when storms with hail are on the way
He washes it? The rain will come for sure
Snow skis on top? The temp'rature will soar
On hottest days he dons his thickest cloak
At first you'll think that it's his little joke
At your expense, but when the skies are clear
You'll see him wearing all his rain-proof gear
Umbrella, hat, and raincoat without doubt
A pair of waders in the midst of drought
Dark glasses when thick clouds hide all the sky
On wintry days, a short sleeve shirt and tie
But wait! Please note before this ditty ends
They make long term, but most confusing, friends

Alan Smith July 2004
Published (Commended) in Yellow Moon No 15 August 2004

Posted by alan at January 30, 2005 2:36 PM

Comments

Posted by: Teresa at February 9, 2005 12:37 PM

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Posted by: Kathleen in Texas at February 12, 2005 5:07 PM

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