A while ago, I wrote a poem which was allegedly about Victorian Swansea. Having been successfully shoe-horned into an exhibition on that theme, it was recently returned to me. I’ll let you see for yourself why the link is quite so tenuous. Hope you enjoy it anyway.
Tempest Prognosticator Slimy creatures start climbing as storms brew, As Doc Merryweather well knew, So he built a fine leech barometer Which was then used to monitor The onset of approaching storms. His 'jury of philosophical councillors', Most unusual of weather announ-cilors, Would climb as the atmosphere changed Causing small bells to ring as arranged, Early forecasters in primal forms. Had in Swansea this means been adopted New leeches would needs be co-opted As they'd tire from such frequent prediction Of the near-constant rainfall affliction Of this city. This however did not come to pass For the far less intriguing Storm Glass Was the choice of the Government-types So no leeches would crawl up their pipes, More's the pity.
To learn more about this fascinating invention, and perhaps get some idea what I’m going on about, visit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tempest_prognosticator