The Sun Mystery
In June the sun was coming up
Before the crack of dawn,
But, now, the thing is hold out,
Not only that, but gone
To bed at night much earlier—
Three minutes, by the day!—
And while I know this can’t be true
(It’s summer; I’m at play)
The trend seems clearly ominous
(I’ve calculated stuff),
By Christmas, it won’t shine at all
And there won’t be enough
Daylight and its resulting heat
To keep my footsies warm
And I might think of growing fur
And there might be a storm
And it might even snow and I
Might have to wear my cat!
(Please tell me this won’t happen, and
I’m talking through my hat.)
