Her daddy hated his tattoosbut she was in love with a baby dueIn September, early September.So they called the kinfolk, set up the barThrew some chairs out in the yardAnd got a preacher, a pentecostal preacherAnd the man on the evening newsPromised sunny and 72 butYou can’t trust the weater manMakes his livin’ off a lucky chanseWhole crowd was soaken wetMud all over momma’s dressNo sign of the sunBut a sure fire sign of things to comeOne thing you can planIs You can’t trust the weater manSix months after the knot got tiedThere were diapers and a double wideThey couldn’t pay for one day they had a brainstormShe’d pull the gun he’d crack the safeThey pulled it off and they pulled awayThey were laughin’ ’til they saw lights flashin’Forecast on the radioNever even mentioned snow butYou can’t trust the weathermanMakes his livin’ off a lucky chanseCop car hit a path of iceHit a rail flipped on its sideThat couple got awayCops only had one thing to blameShook off the snow, threw up their handsSaid, you can’t trust the weather manThey hid their cash under the bedOf that condo in Club MedWhere the chance of sunshine isOne hundred percent butYou can’t trust the weathermanMakes his livin’ off a lucky chanceHurricane came rippin’ troughTore that condo right in twoStuff scattered everywhereStolen money flyin’ trough the airAnd if you wonder how the story endsThey’re back out in the sticks againSo remember when you’re makin’ plansYou can’t trust the weathermanYou can’t trust the weathermanNo, You can’t, can’t trust the weatherman