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
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