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It was a nasty wind that blew Upon the shore that day She howled and hissed, but she would not desist She had to have her way

She was a lady of the night And she was dressed to kill She blared and she glared, and she even dared To do the devil's will

She made her way into the bay Upon that fateful eve Inside New Orleans you could hear the screams Of those who were naive

She ranted, raved and misbehaved Way past the midnight hour With her hips swaying and the town folk praying For the harlot to lose her power

Katrina left the bay at last Cackling on her way All that remains are the ungodly stains Of a lady who went astray. . .