Oh confound this slippery dripping wet whipping windful weather. Bless my bile-brown oven and her blazing red-hot heart of coal. The blasted sky over this town can't seem to make his mind up As if it were raising and wrinkling eyebrows. Waxing and waning ominous and calmly cool and collected. Sprouts of obtuse-angle rain and yes, hail. And I thought last night was lousy weather for making the rounds To the clubs to hand over the posters In that cozy copyshop shortly before eight I unwisely layed that retched tattered wreck of a batwing Stupid soaking umbrelly on the worktable Thus endangering entire villages in A4 and A3 Despite the plastic bag. That was nasty, but brother, today it blows.
