From the Evening Star, October 14, 1914. By Philander Johnson.
Oh, the man who utters warnings,
He is busy nights and mornings!
He is busy in the north and in the south!
He reminds us of the evil
That attends each moth or weevil,
And is particularly eloquent on drouth.
He will talk about the weather,
He will get reports together
From the musty, dusty data of the past,
And he’ll have you a-tremble,
Till your fears you can’t dissemble,
Every time the sky is slightly overcast.
He will take the saddest cases
Of all history for the basis
Of a wail which to the present he’ll apply.
All the tragedy and sorrow
Of the ages he will borrow
And parade them with a melancholy sigh.
We respect him while we fear him
As we grimly pause to hear him
Giving notice of a future very blue.
Then we conquer our dejection
By the pertinent reflection
That the most of what he says does not come true.