So the seat of all knowledge, as most of you know
Our post office at 11 a.m. is where you should go.
It was there that I heard, though surprised I was not.
The snow on last Monday, turns out it was bought.
Bought by my neighbor who cleaned up her car
Bought by the runner who had hoped to go far.
Bought by the gardener who raked up the leaves
And bought by the painter who painted his eaves.
Bought by the sweeper, who swept away grit
And those on that Sunday, in the sun they did sit.
They all blamed themselves and sorry did say
For bringing such misery on a nice April day.
If two had stayed home, the curse might have failed
But together their wishes, the sun it just bailed.
The clouds heard their wish and the snow quickly followed
And the lounge on my deck was soon totally swallowed.
So, my friends listen well to this tale of that curse,
Good deeds and intentions can sometimes, make it all worse.