The grey skies are stormy and wild,
Strong winds gust and batter the land,
Rain carried by the squall
Peppers the windows
like gravel
And stings the faces
of the unfortunate traveller
God protect those
caught abroad
On such a foul day as
this
The winds whistle
round the buildings
And make rag dolls of
the trees
Being inside looking
out is preferable
Warming by the fire
with glass in hand
Loved ones safe about
you
Ride out the storm in
comfort
Until the stormy gales
subside
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