In old times, wenches, yeomen
Had some strange thoughts in their minds.
They were superstitious, rooting in the dirt,
So when a lightning bolt hurtled
Through a sky that was once blue,
The oafs didn't know about
Mother Nature's climatic plans.

Attributed to man-god
Hurling bolts from above. . .
Thought of him as His Thunderness,
Believed he controlled the weather
Every time that the rain spilled.
This was well before electricity
Was mass-produced and billed.

Thor's the dean of thunder;
He ain't one to fool
Around with because the guy is quite old school.
Thor gets mean with thunder;
Decibels his tool--
Not only thund'rous. . .
Stubborn as a mule.

If he gets pissed, he'll throw hailing
Into the mix—down it pelts.
So, whatever you do,
Don't make him mad
Or you might be forever dead
If he volts-jolts dolt you.
Those volts can halt your hearty heart
Before your time is due.

Thor's the dean of thunder;
He ain't one to fool
Around with because the guy is quite old school
Thor' sends gleams with thunder;
Decibels his tool.
When he's at work,
Don't stand there in a pool.

Much later, Wagner came to
Those old tales of yesterday.
We got Thor and the Walkyries' ride. . .
Much worse--Brunhilde's bray.

Bored by dean of thunder
Philistinic phool
Am I but to have to hear the "Ring" is cruel
And unusual punish-
ment; wish The Hague would rule
On Wagner as a torture tool.