Temperature Poem by George Hunter

It sure is hot, one-hundred and five.
I feel like I'm being roasted alive.
And that's in the shade, o-kay
Best stay outta the shade today.
But out in the sun
It's one-twenty one
Maybe I'll read the temp in Centigrade
That only makes it forty-one in the shade.

You've got to admit that sounds much better,
I think maybe I'll go and don my sweater.
‘Cause I'm getting quite old
And can't risk a bad cold.
In my sweater I know that I'll be a sight
But this winter I'll switch back to Fahrenheit.
I don't wish to be a hero
But freezing at thirty-two sounds much warmer than zero!