"Is It Hot Enough Fer You?"

A poem by George W. Doneghy

I.

I wouldn't mind the weather much--I'd sizzle and I'd stew,
And do the very best I could the heat to struggle through,
If I could find some way, you know, the feller to eschew,
Who greets you with the chestnut phrase--
"IS IT HOT ENOUGH FER YOU?"


II.

The mercury might climb the tube and spill right out the top--
The sweat might ooze from every pore and off my carcass drop--
I wouldn't mind the heat at all, and keep my temper too,
If it wasn't for the cuss who says--
"IS IT HOT ENOUGH FER YOU?"


III.

The sun might shine his level best--the sky seem molten brass--
The heat might dry up every stream, and burn up all the grass--
The evening come without a breeze--the morning have no dew--
If it wasn't for the 'moke' who asks
"IS IT HOT ENOUGH FER YOU?"