It had started out a peaceful day
In early June.What a lazy Sunday!
You were quite silent, and filled with dismay;
But, what did the preacher say?
It was golden, and late in the sunrise,
And birds swept southern skies,
In the season of the butterflies.
Did you look him in the eyes?
The wind whispered of tragedy,
Like black water, never to be free;
And eerie stillness was the only
Other hint if what had come to be.
It occurred in heat of bittersweet June,
Sometime just before the noon,
In the shadows beyond Appleyard Lagoon,
Where the wilder blooms are strewn!
It was June, and a black Sunday;
Deacon Williams began to pray.
Sometimes trouble has its way;
And what did the preacher say?