A Devil’s Winter

I’ve never felt a devil’s winter that chilled my every bone;
one where the sun withdrew its promise and hid behind a gray plated dome
And I tell that story every time the snow begins to fall.
Cause I hear my grandfather’s warning in a barely audible call. . .
The cattleman barred and locked the latch and with his horse he rode.
But a hail storm broke out and he died there in the cold.
By the time the storm reared, it was nearly fifty days
Some grizzly probably ate him ‘cause he didn’t have a grave
Some say that hell froze over and out of underground
Leaving the woman and her babies in the bunker without sound. . .
Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah- ah.
Some say when the storm reared, the devil’s face was in the sky aglow.
Some say they saw a ghostly herd marching across the bottomless snow.
And did the woman and her babies hear the pounding hooves on top,
dying of hunger in the bunker as the demons stamped the crop?
By the time the recruiters came, the ice had melted and turned.
And there was a devil’s January sun so scorching hot. It burned.
And my grandfather swore the snowfall were as if it never fell.
But they did uncover a pit in the earth, so deep they couldn’t tell
Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah- ah.
Some say when the storm reared, the devil’s face was in the sky aglow.
Some say they saw a ghostly herd stampeding across the bottomless snow.
And did the woman and her babies hear the pounding hooves on top,
Sprawled lifeless of hunger in the bunker. . .And the key was in the lock.
Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah hah. . .Ah- ah.

----- by Dean McRae

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