Brr, it is cold at Gobblers’ Knob. It is eleven degrees this morning in Punxatawney, but with the gusty wind it feels like minus five.
A cold day in old Punxutawney
where Phil peeks from hold scared and scrawny.
He his shadow did see.
Six weeks winter will be.
Moi? Back to bed tired and yawny.
One note of curiosity. The announcement of the prognostication came at 7.20. Sunrise was 7.23. Punxutawney Phil saw his shadow form the television lights. So I guess global warming is a thing of the past.