The weather is crazy,
And so are my kin.
When I pick up a daisy,
A rash itches my skin.

The sky is falling,
With that guy at the helm.
I'm not of his calling,
Certainly, not of his realm.

I'm up to my ears,
In alligator muck.
With all of my fears,
making me upchuck.

So, if you're in a mess,
And want to get out.
Don't read this poem,
It'll leave you in doubt.