Your plans are all made; they’re predicting a storm.
You’d like to stay home where it’s cozy and warm;
But commitments take precedence, weather or not,
And being there seems like the one choice you’ve got.
So you cross all your fingers and even your toes
And hope that the gale chooses not to impose,
For Nature’s in charge of controlling our fate
And all we can do is get anxious and wait.