She'll have skirts that sweep the land.
Giant fingers on a giant hand,
Dancing her way across the nation,
Plundering all to devastation.
Oh damned is he who smote her wrath,
His world is about to get a bath.
Wild she swirls, and angry she screams,
Fevered pitch from man's worst dreams.
Oh great Lady of Lightning and wind;
Girl of rain and tears, be kind?
Your children are laying helpless below,
It's they you smite with sundering blow.
For gone is he who provoked your fury,
Gone away in a sneaking hurry.
Put down your skirts, your legs to tarry,
Be kind and gentle, and let's be merry.
Darlings, lets be merry.