Fellow, Mudders, fellow, sloggers,
let’s all stay home and be bloggers.
It’s so damp and it is raining.
Some street grates are blocked and stop downfall from draining.

Can’t go hiking—it’s too dicey;
at least the trails are not icy.
I’m old and my skin is thinner,
so the rain makes me a whiner, not a winner.

If I went out, I’d need gaiters
covering my rubber waders.
On the trails it’s beyond misty—
I will go on with my litany of mis’ry.

I’m inside where storm will spare me—
there’s no water to impair me.
You might say I’m far from hardy,
but when it’s time for breakfast, I won’t be tardy.

Stay at home, oh Mudders; bloggers
be, not out-in-the-rain sloggers.
Let’s not seek the sodden forests where
there might be ticks seen in our hair.
Stay at home, mix up a cocktail and rejoice,
perhaps watch reruns of “The Voice”;
though TV at midday makes me abuse Goose Grey.

Fearsome bloggers, darling Mudders,
we’ll see no cows with fat udders.
And the calves would not be frisky—
even they know that to gambol would be risky.

Any minute, might start hailing;
were we hiking, we’d be wailing.
A better way to get wetter
is to sob while blogging a digital letter.