Have you heard of the Thunder Baby
Way up in the big blue sky?
You’ve seen his cradle, maybe,
And maybe you’ve heard him cry.
Most of the time he’s sleeping,
Rolled up in a big white cloud,
But when he’s awake and hungry
He bellows awfully loud.
And when he’s crying, sometimes
You can hear his teardrops fall
With a patter, patter, patter,
Against the garden wall.
But when he’s madder’n mischief,
He rolls, and growls, and spits,
And kicks the clouds all forty ways,
And gives the weather fits.
Then tears come down in bucketfuls,
And children dance for joy,
Till the sun comes out and soundly spanks
Her Thunder Baby Boy.
Leroy F. Jackson
