Hot Air

Hot Air The name of that wind is Satana It’s hot and it’s dusty and dry, Don’t call the wind Santa Ana In error, for that is a lie. Saint Ann the mother of Mary Is remembered in so many ways But not for a wind that blows from the desert And makes your skin and eyes craze. In Nineteen O’ One a reporter In error rushed his dispatch in He wrote Santa Ana the rotter, It is he that committed the sin. The name is Vientos de Sataná The wind of the devil that’s hot, A weather man called it Santana But that is a name it is not. So we are left here in confusion, Raymond Chandler back in ’thirty eight In “Red Wind” to Santa Anas made allusion As conditions the local folk hate. The wind blowing in from the passes, Curls your hair, makes nerves up tight, Drying the air and scorching the grasses And everyone’s edgy all night.