There was a petrel, small and humble
Who lived on a volcano's rim
One day, he pondered
"What could I offer?"
To those who lived far under him
The legends say, day after day
He peeked inside and squawked away
"Two summers more, go plan before
The lava comes out to play!"
Creatures heard, the packs and herds
Looked up at the sky in awe
With their hopes raised
Their hero praised
Suddenly, he had it all
They said "Weather bird, oh, weather bird
What thanks could we give to you?"
And, flustered so
He sputtered "Oh,
I need nothing in return!"
The petrel gained disciples
But lonely he remained
And all was quiet
There was no riot
Until the fire rained
He grew to love, unlike the dove
A world of war to reap
Announcements were whispers
Foes reduced to whiskers
Because they were not his sheep
Creatures heard, the packs and herds
Looked up at the sky in awe
With their hopes raised
Opponents braised
They knew there would be a fall
They said "Weather bird, oh, weather bird
Which sacrifice pleases you?"
And, flustered so
He fibbed "No,
I never choose who to burn!"
One summer, he landed
And, though underhanded
His cult guarded him on the ground
Telltale rumbles sounded
And he was surrounded
Held down as the world was aflame
His wings were stampeded
His followers bleated
And he was the one to blame
They said "Weather bird, oh, weather bird
Why should we have trusted you?"
And, flustered so
He muttered "No!"
But silence was all it earned