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They say there was shower of bats,
And women have turned into cats.
Giant worms are squirming from the soil.
At both the poles the waters boil.
It’s rumoured that a plague of fleas
Destroyed a town – no buzzing bees
On flowers collect the nectar sweet;
No honey from the hive to eat.
The cows won’t milk and there’s no field
Where crops will grow – there is no yield.
The butter’s bitter, wine soon sours;
The clock is counting down the hours
To when the sun will cease to shed
It’s light, and we will all be dead!
(Unless we can make Trump resign,
In which case all will be just fine.)