Lyrics

The snow glows white in the Capital tonight,
Not a skier to be seen.
In his kingdom of isolation,
Tony broils a steak and screams.
Kevin's forecast was exactly right this time,
Though he hates Kevin's guts, Wilbon's not surprised.

It's time to see, what they can do,
Put down a bag of salt, then maybe two.
Those Sheehan boys, they must work.
For signed hats.


Shovel snow, shovel snow,
He can't do that anymore.
Shovel snow, shovel snow.
His cardiologist said no.
If he dares, he'll die out there.
Let the storm rage on,
PTI will send are car for him anyway.