The air was hot and sultry the sky was overcast,
We knew there'd be a dust storm before the day had passed.
The wind was getting stronger as it blew across the land,
The fallow started drifting as it blew across the sand.
Far away beyond the horizon the dust clouds rise and roll,
Like smoke from a huge bush fire, that's out of men's control.
The dust storm slowly gathers, for a while the wind is calm,
And a brooding silence settles around the house and farm.
The fowls seek shelter on the roost the birds fly to the trees,
The horses and the cattle stand, their rumps towards the
breeze.
Then the brooding silence breaks, the wind comes with a roar,
Bringing tons of drifting sand, like waves upon the shore.
The daylight fades before the storm, the day turns into night,
The lamps are lit in daytime, to shed a ray of light.
There's a crash of breaking branches, and a sound of flapping
tin,
An empty tank goes rolling past, to add more to the din.
Then suddenly we hold our breath, and everyone looks glum,
A sheet of iron has left the roof, and blown to "Kingdom
Come".
The sand blew through the opening, the ceiling starts to sag,
It wasn't built to carry weight, it was made of manure bag.
The tacks began to feel the weight as the weight of sand
increased,
And then a ripping scaring sound, and the ceiling was
released.
The light went out, confusion reigned, we grouped towards
the door,
But the darned thing wouldn't open, for the dirt upon the floor.
We scrambled out a window, nearly smothered by the dust,
We coughed and sneezed and spluttered, and thought our
lungs would bust.
At last the dust storm passed away and sun shone out again,
We started cleaning out the mess and prayed it wouldn't rain .
They say we all must eat some dirt, before we pass away,
I'll guarantee we ate our share, when the ceiling gave way.