A Storm Is a Brewin'

The heats beating down on the back of my neck and a river of sweat's runnin’ down my spine I swear I would trade away my last red cent for any kind of shade that I just might find The sun is so hot it's burned away the chance of any cloud that might saunter into view The thermometer has reach o'er a hundred and the clock just now hit a quarter past two I ain't seen a hide nor hair of any rain Since back... well heck, I only wish I could tell I’ve always thought of Montana as Heaven but I'd swear right now it sure feels more like Hell My tongue is a hangin’ pert near to the ground I think ole Jilly Gal's just about to drop But there's still five more miles to get to Tree Creek where for the night we will be able to stop About six I begin to feel a small breeze as it comes gently drifting across the plains I'll be jiggered if when I look to the south the horizon looks like it’s holding some rain Glory hallelujah I cried to my horse as I felt the breeze stiffen into a wind I hoped it wouldn't be too much longer now before a little rain might finally begin Six fifteen rolls by and brings rumbling thunder and bright streaks of lightning flash across the sky My rejoicing turns to prayers that wildfires don't start up because the grass has been so dry By six thirty the air has a chill to it might be more than rain from what my nose can tell On the open prairie there's no worse thing to bring dread to a cowboy more than pelting hail Six forty-five three drops of rain have fallen onto the brim of my dusty Stetson hat By seven the sun is shining bright again the wind died off and put a quick end to that Seven thirty and all hope of rain has left leaving the prairie parched and the flies to swarm I look up at the sky and know that I have survived another Montana’s summer storm