Its warning ring is clearly drawn 
While farmers at their tellies yawn 
The dewbacked cows will wait til dawn 
Beneath the haloed hill. 

Boats will rock the songstars roar 
Seaswell open up and pour 
The poison from the ocean's floor 
Upon the blistered land. 

The moon it darkens in disgrace 
Clouds on crutches hide its face 
And wind and rain their boots unlaced 
Are bringing home the storm.