Alas, on Monday morning you saw your shadow, despite the poem below, where I beseeched you to give us a break:
You who live in Punxsatawney,
With toothy grin and color tawny,
Came out to prognosticate
If winter will remain till late.
Whether you will see your shadow
May not be news on Rachel Maddow,
But those who have endured the cold
Hope you don't, if truth be told.
Cause if you do it's six more weeks
Of snow and cold and frozen creeks.
And if you don't you'll stay outside
And spring will come (!), you trusty guide.
You hold the future in your paws
Not sanctified like Santa Claus,
But it's even better, really, true
To have a day named after you.
A movie, too, that kept us seated
With 24 hours, constantly repeated.
(You were the title, but not the star,
Andie and Bill together are.)
Despite a globe that's warming fast,
This winter's been a frozen blast.
You didn't help, you were a creep.
You saw your shadow, went back to sleep!
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