The tenth of April in twenty nine
Is still remembered in the town of Guion.
A cold rain had fallen most of the day
Depriving the children of fun and play.
At four o'clock the school turned out;
The children leaving for home about.
Then in the west the clouds seemed to part
Bringing joy to the youngster's heart.
The men had left sand mines and mill,
The calm that followed was quiet and still.
The huge hail stones the size of a fist
Came whizzing down in a curving twist;
Scattering at first, they increased in number,
Crashing the roof like continual thunder.
Then in the west some chanced to spy
The huge pillar of clouds rolling nigh.
Fear seized the heart of every one.
Each left his home and began to run;
Scores ran to the tunnel on the hill;
Others the basement and cellar did fill.
Out of the hills with a thunderous roar
Came the tornado sweeping all before;
Striking White River it swept it dry
Scattering the fish over the land to die.
The storm a grudge seemed to express
As it roared through town out of the west.
Not content with the damage first done
It circled the town to finish its fun.
Leaving the town, it mounted the hill,
Seeking new victims to rend and to kill.
In and near Guion five people were slain;
Others were wounded left out in the rain.
With scarcely a house left standing upright,
The tunnels were used as shelter that night.
Then in response to the urgent call,
The Red Cross sent food and clothing to all.
The next day the sight was astounding
To the people on farms and village surrounding.
Chickens picked clean of every feather,
Limping about in cool spring weather.
The bank, depot, houses, barns, and store
Were smashed into kindling from roof to floor.
The streets and alleys no more were found;
The rubbish completely covered the ground.
The people of Guion were silent and quiet
As they looked about at the awful sight.
O.J.H

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