Lightning bolts, like a fiery rod, Unleashing the wrath of an angry god. It skips and dances across the land And runs with the devil, hand in hand. It snuffs out the life of a mighty oak.
Thunder rolls like a celestial drummer Marching ahead of the storms of summer.
Trees bend over in gales of wind, Straighten up tall and bend again. Then comes the dreaded pounding hail, Beating out tunes on an old tin pail. The whole thing's over, and it's barely noon. Ah, what is so rare as a day in June.