You don’t need to stand in the street there now son
I know it’s a hurricane
I can see the trees bending, I can hear the wind scream
What the heck has gone wrong with your brain
Correspondents, reporters and journalists too
I know what you’re tryin to do
But take it from me, I’m an old hand at this
Them hurricanes might could kill you
That Pulitzer Prize that you’re hankering for
May not be quite worth what you’ll pay
While a Posthumous Pulitzer looks nice on the wall
You’re still dead at the end of the day
Now I’m just a dumb viewer in front of the tube
All slack-jawed and without a care
But I think I can figure out it ain’t too smart
To stand where things fly through the air
I wouldn’t stand up in my old pickup truck
When it’s pushin a hundred and five
That wind’s a might strong and as tough as I am
I’d prefer to get home alive
I’ve learned a few things while I’ve been on this earth
And a few of them I’ve learned quite well
I know to stay indoors when hurricanes howl
Going outside is dumber ‘n Hell.
So give me some credit for the half-brain I’ve got
And assume that I know storms are bad
Take my advice now and git back inside
And you might live to be a new dad
