“Blizzards forming on the Range, beware!

Snowflakes could fall any second, now,”

So says he with educated air

(and caring, convoluted furrowed brow).

“Cyclone coming, Eastwards, out to sea”

Pursing lips in sympathetic sneer,

Foretells mayhem almost gleefully

(the Botex smile may lead to Fox next year).

“Arid heat in Vegas, have some fun!”

Every half an hour the map is poked,

Pointing to a plastic, smiling sun,

But somehow, every picnic ends up soaked!

“Oklahoma City wrapped by fog”

Annoyed, a viewer rings up to complain:

“Tell him he’s a filthy, lying dog!

The town has washed away – torrential rain!”

“Arkansas, your drought’s about to bust,

Rainclouds now are blotting out the sun!”

Viewers from that region breathe in dust,

Several wander off to find their gun.

Every day he seems to get it wrong,

Weather man who wants the world’s respect,

More concerned with if his hair’s too long

Than all the outdoor concerts he has wrecked.

Watching TV news we see his act,

Rainfall, wind and sun – a daily hit,

Then we head outside to check for real,

Weatherman – you’re always full of shit!