The siren sounds its warning,

Every Saturday at noon.

Because it’s every weekend,

I hope we’re not immune.

The weather can be wicked,

Winds whipping wildly too and fro.

Hail pounding the roof and siding,

Causing worry down below.

Rain falling in sheets,

Wipers unable to stay on task,

The siren sounds its warning,

Please listen is what it asks.