Rain

Rain

It’s raining again.

Why does it always rain on me?

It’s raining, men!

Now I can’t live without the rain.

I’m just crying in the rain,

and it’s raining in my champagne –

which is making the bubbles disappear,

and the champagne very weak.

It’s raining outside,

but that’s not unusual.

It’s probably raining on somebody’s parade,

but I don’t know whose.

Between the rain and the Sun

they have contrived to make a rainbow.

So, that’s alright – isn’t it?

So much rain.

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