(No music, just lyrics)
Thirty thousand volunteers upon the Mojave Desert
While the bagpipes are playing
And wildflowers are saying
Go and hide from the Red Alert.
And the Boy Scouts from the Sun begin to die away
As the mountains are sighing
And everyone's lying
With just nothing left to say.
Whoever would guess
That this big mess
Was started just yesterday?
Now the angry okapis can only sit and sweat
When the pupa is stomping
The Fire God romping
To slow down his own silhouette.
A squadron of asterisks is always in the store
But the target is switching
God's fingernails twitching
They cannot hold on any more.
And if you insist
Know that nothing like this
Has ever happened before.
At last, without Isabelle, the lungfish is done up
For Australia is beaten
The craters all eaten
By marbles poured out of a cup
So with the falling earthquake to add to Adam's list
Their temples now burning
The birds are returning
To the song within the mist.
And with the delay
We can hear far away
The pounding of a fist.
David N. Townsend
©1972, 1997