Gusty Gertie blew into town,
And knocked all of our houses down,
She smashed the old town hall to bits,
Turning trees into matchsticks.
A hoarding just blew down the street,
It knocked the news crew off their feet,
It’s like some classic movie scene,
Surreal, a dream, not real I mean.
A lorry slides across the road,
The diesel station will explode.
Bits of trees fly through the air,
A washing line, some underwear.
People run for basement safety,
Despite foundations looking shaky,
Some are fleeing in their cars,
Whilst others hide in downtown bars.
Then nothing. Everything goes still,
No one moves, or breathes, until
We know the worst of it has gone
And peace returns,
And life moves on.