Weather Poem by Dante Furious

The weather ended today
My mum watched it on telly
She was trying to see the news over my dad’s belly

It can’t be true she said
They all have PHd’s in being clever
Can’t they just make up something up about the weather?

The met office all looked glum
All clouds have given up
There isn’t really any hope
It’s so bad that we’ve called in the pope

He prays and prays and prays some more
He raises his livered spotted hands
A song is orchestrated by Geldof and sung by boy bands

Umbrellas are discarded
Grass turns vacant brown
And nobody hangs out their washing in my windless town