Hurricane Katrina (song, audio)

Whooee! Well folks, I been rollin' this here tune 'round in my head fer a day or two. It's set t' the tune o' Woody Guthrie's song, The Great Dust Storm. Folks is comparin' the dust bowl refugees from the 1930's t' these here victims in New Orleans. Back then, 'bout 400,000 poor folks was drove offa their land by drought an' dust storms. You mighta read ol' Johnny Steinbeck's story on it, The Grapes of Wrath. I reckon there'll be sum books wrote 'bout Katrina, too.

Click right here fer the audio MP3 o' JimBobby singin'.

Hurricane Katrina

On the 29th of August,
In the year two thousand five,
Came Hurricane Katrina,
Many folks did not survive.

They could see the storm a-comin',
'Cross the Gulf of Mexico.
It brought more death and hardship,
Than anyone could know.

In Gulfport and Biloxi,
And down in New Orleans,
They said it was the worst storm,
That anyone had seen.

The water broke the levees,
And New Orleans flooded deep.
It went up to the rooftops,
Some places twenty feet.

The rich folks and the middle class,
Evacuated town.
The poor, sick and disabled,
Were left behind to drown.

The hurricane subsided,
The poor folks felt relief,
But when the levees busted,
Their hearts was filled with grief.

They looked outside their windows,
Where neighborhoods had been,
Was now a stinkin' cess pool,
The worst they'd ever seen.

The water covered houses,
And schools and churches, too.
The folks who had survived it,
Didn't know what to do.

The poor folks climbed the rafters,
Of their water-sodden homes.
And then a bunch was herded
Into the Super Dome.

The Super Dome was crowded
And chaos reigned supreme,
While bureaucrats from FEMA thought
It was all just a horr'ble dream.

Five days and nights they waited,
Some starved; some died of thirst,
The bureaucrats all fightin' over
Who should go in first.

And through the mighty nation,
There's fingers pointin' blame.
The richest country in the world,
Now hangs its head in shame.

Across the world they're askin',
Why oh why oh why?
The richest country on the earth,
Just let its poor folks die.

Now, good folks from every nation,
Is pitchin' in to give,
Charity to America
To help the poor folks live.

Yes, good folks from every nation,
Is doing what they can,
To try and help the poor folks,
Livin' in the Promised Land.


Yores trooly,
JimBobby