The storm is a grumpy giant,
Ill-tempered and cross,
He struts around like he's the boss,
But when he loses his bowling game,
He stamps his bulky foot and loses his fame,
He loudly stomps across the room
And creates thunder that goes boom!
He throws his bowling ball onto the floor,
All the other giants think he's a bore,
The bowling ball makes lightning ,illuminating the sky,
All of a sudden he starts to cry.
Crying softly, he falls to sleep,
He doesn't make a peep,
All tucked up in his bed,
All the other giants think he's dead.
The storm is an angry rhino,
Raven and grey,
He roars and howls all day and night,
Crashing and banging giving everyone a fright.
Flash, flash, flash! He throws his gold, glittering lightning,
Bolts in a raging temper.
After he has settled down,
His frown turns the other way round,
And he skipped happily behind the sun.
The mist is a visible ghost,
His sodden hands slide across your face.
It's breath whistles through the oak trees,
He pulls you down to the raven black.
As the mist becomes calm,
The sun comes out to play
And blows the mist away.