My first night along, why should I remember
that dim misty day a week shy of December
Sitting at the window this uneasiness inside
as this battle took shape right before my eyes
Sweeping in from the east an ill wind did blow
this howling of hell whistling like never before
A flotilla of cloud in the south mingling, massing!
billowing! now blanketing the shy without asking
Roaring in the west this snap, that thunderous crack
the lightning is striking back! lighting up the night.
Then the rains rushing forth! down from the north
drowning each voice, proclaiming it’s victory to-night.
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