It was a dark and stormy night.
The thunder barked its orders loud,
Calling his clouds to a fight
Against the Lightening, bright and proud.

The blood of the soldiers fell
Flooding the soil with living flow.
No single cloud would live to tell
What spectacle was the night's foul show.

Come morning, all that remained
Was blood on the ground, no inch was dry.
Thunder and Lightening had refrained
And no longer rained their battle cries.

Villagers below emerged unscathed,
Knowing naught of the horror: the former bang
In the scent of blood their noses bathed.
"I love the smell of rain." They sang.