The Plague

There will be blue skies
Above the green and verdant plain
Churns will swell with fresh butter
There will be an abundance of sweet grain
And we will rise from our sleep
We won’t have time to choose what things we’ll keep
And rivers will all turn to blood
Frogs will fall from the sky
And the plague will rage through the countryside
La la la la
La la la la
La la la, la la la, la la la
There will be cotton clouds
Above the fields as white as cream
There will be loud singing in the churches
As we all come out to take one for the team
And all our great schemes and plans
Will slip like fishes from our hands
And rivers will all turn to blood
Frogs will fall from the sky
And the plague will cover the country with its anger
La la la la
La la la la
La la la, la la la, la la la
Hey