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Don’t tell me the ropes I know the lay of the land And the smell of the invading band The barometer drops like a garden shed Better wet than almost dead Storms go where weakness squats Dumps with nasty kitchen pots Storms have eyes, ears as well Careful you’re not going to hell Denmark could have saved itself I put that place back on the shelf Greenland too, mainly ice I wouldn’t pay their nasty price Watch out Dems, Danes and more My eye is the weather’s core Eye of the storm, nose to boot I don’t give a bloody hoot I dump weather on the enemy camp You might drown or get a little damp Watch my fingers, watch my thumb You really are very dumb Lines on a map, squiggles on a chart Put this in your checkout cart Kiss my ass, prime my pump I won’t send lightning up your rump I do isobars in my sleep Pressure lines to make you weep Typhoon, racoons, snakes on planes Mad Cow brings on heavy rain Swamp gas for those not on my page Now let’s hear the moans and rage. |
| Mad Cow is all in the know He can tell rain from snow And know the way wind blows Navigation chart up his nose Brain on the compass Blather and rumpus His ship will set sail It’s either heads or tails Path of the storm What year were you born? Want puffy clouds or angry hail Or milk delivered in a dairy pail Kale is nice this time of year Hand on the hip, have no fear Isotopes and dopes |