Ode to a Flood

Let me sing you a sweet song,
A song as sweet as a grand piano

I have not heard you talk for once
Yet you make men talk about you

You draw out tears from your victims,
And make proud feet bow at your foot

Where are the LANDLORDS
Whose fingers are refined?

They have left lands and tenants behind;
You are the real lord whose presence chases other lords

Classic cars that splashed are being splashed
And feet walk underneath your water web

We hail you mighty conqueror,
Quiet quieter of running lips.