When Mother nature slams the door,
The draught will roar,
The clouds will race,
At a breath taking pace,
The solid ground will shake,
Rock, will grind with rock, to make,
The hardest stone turn to sand,
With nowhere exempt, from land to land,
As lightning split’s the sky,
Creatures of the night, in daytime will fly,
The worldly wealth of gold will turn to lead,
The great oak will tremble and humbly bow it’s head
As the bluebells ring,
And…..The last Unicorn ……..Starts to sing!