""If the sun don't come you get a tan from standing in the English rain""

Michael, that's RUST!

THE LITTLE WEATHERMAN
Tune "The Little Beggarman" (Irish Trad.)


I am a little weatherman, you'll see me on TV,
I stand upon a box because I'm only five foot three,
I smile into the camera, to communicate to you,
That I really know me job, and every word I say is true,
        Of all the trades that's going, meteorology's the one,
        With the greatest chance of failure, ah! But that is half the fun,
        It really doesn't matter if I cock it up you see,
        For, when I'm on you're all out in the kitchen making tea.

Oh! The mysteries of forecasting are really quite obscure,
But the use of Doppler radar makes prediction very sure,
I forecast dry and sunny, over twenty three degrees,
And it rains so hard the water level's well above your knees,
        Take a tip, take the day off, take the car, get out of town,
        Pay a visit to the seaside, and you're sure to come back brown,
        You may boast about your suntan, if you really feel you must,
        But, unless they're blind or stupid, they will realise it's rust.

I stood upon me little box, one dark and stormy night,
And I told ten million viewers "There's no hurricane in sight",
Next morning, scattered far and wide were fifteen million trees,
I must be the country's worst case of the foot in mouth disease,
        And since that day I've tried right hard, to cover my backside,
        I predict the worst scenario, whatever might betide,
        For repeating that fiasco is the last thing I would wish,
        So TOMORROW WILL BE ROTTEN, and goodnight from Michael Fish.



© Don Thompson April 1988