it isn't your day to plunder

The crooks waiting on the wings

They smell the gold, diamonds and rings

They gathered their horses on the field

The signal they will watch with anticipation

The sky slowly turning dark and cloudy

The strong wind blowing up the dust and rubbish

The whoring sound can be heard in their ears

They steady their horses don't let them gallop away

The jewel on the central plain

The digging of wealth they dream

Once they had it in their fingers

They lost it by their arrogance

Now they smell the rat

The aroma filtering into their noses

It excites them once again

So here they are gathering on the field

The signal they watch

The time ticking it away

The whoring wind blast their faces

Then the rain then the flood on the field

The crooks see the danger

They aren't waiting but gallop away

The whoring wind wave them goodbye

“It isn't your day to plunder!”