Adverse Sarcasm

The weatherman predicts some snow; He calls for about three inches. Must be great playing god, to know How much will fall, but that’s show biz. I know one thing: if I were wrong As often as the weathermen I wouldn’t have my job that long. They screw-up time and time again And still manage to keep working. Imagine a neurosurgeon Working on your head one morning As inept as the weathermen. Perish the thought! Some comfort though If they call for it, it won’t snow.