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Twas an ill wind blowing on that August day\r\n\'Twas a portent of what was headed that way\r\nAll saints and sinners, aye ye better take heed\r\nOf the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nAll the anchors were down and the sails were moored\r\nEvery shutter was nailed, every treasure was stored\r\nThe warning went out, but some would ne\'er concede\r\nTo the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nThrough the dark of night you could hear her roar\r\nAnd the water kept rising past the reservoir\r\nAs every saint and sinner prayed for relief\r\nFrom the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nThe blues never abandoned New Orleans\r\nBy the light of day you could hear the screams\r\nAnd each day brought new devastation and grief\r\nFrom the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nDays went by and no one came to the aid\r\nOf the helpless souls who were so afraid\r\nStill, some looted and raped and paid no heed\r\nTo the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nThe swells have fallen but there still remains\r\nThe toxic sludge, and the shameful stains\r\nOn those who turned their backs that day\r\nOn the victims of Katrina\r\n\r\n\'Twas an ill wind blowing on that August day\r\n\'Twas a portent of the dame headed that way\r\nAll saints and sinners, aye ye should have taken heed\r\nOf the storm they called Katrina\r\n\r\nOf the storm they called Katrina. . .\r\n