It's Going To Rain For Sure

Can you believe the weather man you see on your t.v.?
You listen to his chatter as you finish off your tea.
He talks about the highs and lows, and clouds that bring the rain.
We watch the skies with eager eyes, but watching's all in vain.

He tells us that this afternoon there'll be a thunder storm
We've heard that story all before and now don't trust his form.
My missus, on the other hand, predicts the rain for sure.
Time after time we've tested it, forecasting each downpour.

She never was a sporting type, she wasn't one for dance;
But outdo any weather man, if given half a chance.
For every time, a day or two, before we get the rain
Her legs will start their playing up, their aching gives her pain.

It now makes sense, the dancing bit, in spite of rhythmic song;
Both legs forecast the weather, and her legs are never wrong.
If they are never wrong, it means that both legs must be right.
And try to dance with two right legs: It's just a sorry sight.

And so we live a quiet life where everything is right.
We never go out dancing, never socialize at night.
We stay at home and watch t.v. and vegitate together
And now and then I check her legs—just checking on the weather.

© Tom Chapman 2008