RAIN

Rainin’, is it? So it is—An’ I knew it would.When a man has rheumatizIn this old left stem of hisHe can tell as goodWhen it’s go’n’ to leakAs your fancy weathermanDown here in Chicago can,If he thinks a week.An’ I guess it’s jest becauseRheumatiz an’ Nature’s lawsSort of work together—Lots of moisture in the air,Rheumatiz a-plenty there,Both mean stormy weather.This left stem of mine can smellWater miles away;This old stem of mine can tellFifty furlongs from a wellWhere it ought to lay.An’ I’ll tell you why:This old stem an’ me has tramped,Waded, swum an’ drove an’ camped,Never gittin’ dry,Forty Winters, forty Springs;Do you wonder thet she singsWhen she smells the water?If you fellahs really knewAll that laig an’ me went throughGuess you’d think she oughter.You ain’t never had the luckSwampin’ in the snow;None of you ain’t never stuckTo your boot-tops in the muckWhen it’s ten below.There ain’t none of youEver drove the ChippewayIn the early days of MayWhen a norther blew,When the river water frozeIn your boots an’ in your clo’es—Freezin’, thawin’, freezin’.If this stem of mine finds outWhen there’s water ’round about,Surely there’s a reason.An’, besides, there’s quite a lineOf such signs of rain;There is many another sign’Ceptin’ this old stem of mineThet is just as plain.There is bunions yet—Fer a corn er bunion is’Most as good as rheumatizProphesyin’ wet.When you see a cat eat grass,When you see the small-mouth bassSendin’ up a bubble,When you hear a rain-crow caw—It is simply Nature’s lawIndicatin’ trouble.Rainin’, is it? So it seems;It’s a nasty night.Yonder how the street lamp gleams!—Like the light you see in dreams,Soft an’ far an’ white,Like the light you seeWhen you let life’s half-hitch slip,When you kind of lose your gripOn the things thet be.An’ I sometimes think the shoreThet we all are headin’ forLooks so far an’ ghostly’Cause we’re lookin’ (like to-nightWe are lookin’ at the light)Through a fog-bank mostly.How the asphalt pavements shine!—Almost lookin’ clean.Ev’ry lamp post makes a lineLike the shadow of a pineOn a snowy scene.In the gutter nighLittle ripples curl an’ comb,Little dirty rivers foam,In an hour to die.They are like the stream of life,Full of work an’ play an’ strife,Proud with splash an’ splutter.Each believes himself a flood—Most of us is only mudRunnin’ down a gutter.Rainin’? Sure enough it is,But it ain’t the goods;Doesn’t git right down to bizLike the whirling raindrops whizUp there in the woods.It’s a city shower,Like the other kinds of stuffIn the city, mostly bluff,Lastin’ fer an hour.Up there, when it rains, it rains,Fillin’ rivers, floodin’ plains,Down the mountains washin’.Up there when a rain we git,When we’re really through with it,Things are jest a-sloshin’.Fer a rainstorm in the brushIs the wettest thing,Ground beneath you soft as mushAn’ around you all a hush,Not a bird to sing—Jest the drippin’ slowOf the raindrops on the leaves,Spillin’ from a billion eavesOn the earth below;Jest a blanket in the mire,Jest a smudgy kind of fire,Weak an’ slow an’ smoky;Breakfast—pancakes simply lead;Dinner—wet an’ soggy bread;Supper—biscuits soaky.Rainin’, is it? So it is.Glad I’m high an’ dry.When a man has rheumatizIn this old left stem of hisKeep inside, say I.Now, this city stuffAin’t like woods rain near as wet,Ain’t like woods rain is, an’ yetIt is wet enough.Course the woods rain is the best,It is dampest, healthiest,Better altogether;But I guess I’ll stay insideTryin’ to be satisfiedWith this city weather.

Rainin’, is it? So it is—

An’ I knew it would.

When a man has rheumatiz

In this old left stem of his

He can tell as good

When it’s go’n’ to leak

As your fancy weatherman

Down here in Chicago can,

If he thinks a week.

An’ I guess it’s jest because

Rheumatiz an’ Nature’s laws

Sort of work together—

Lots of moisture in the air,

Rheumatiz a-plenty there,

Both mean stormy weather.

This left stem of mine can smellWater miles away;This old stem of mine can tellFifty furlongs from a wellWhere it ought to lay.An’ I’ll tell you why:This old stem an’ me has tramped,Waded, swum an’ drove an’ camped,Never gittin’ dry,Forty Winters, forty Springs;Do you wonder thet she singsWhen she smells the water?If you fellahs really knewAll that laig an’ me went throughGuess you’d think she oughter.

This left stem of mine can smell

Water miles away;

This old stem of mine can tell

Fifty furlongs from a well

Where it ought to lay.

An’ I’ll tell you why:

This old stem an’ me has tramped,

Waded, swum an’ drove an’ camped,

Never gittin’ dry,

Forty Winters, forty Springs;

Do you wonder thet she sings

When she smells the water?

If you fellahs really knew

All that laig an’ me went through

Guess you’d think she oughter.

You ain’t never had the luckSwampin’ in the snow;None of you ain’t never stuckTo your boot-tops in the muckWhen it’s ten below.There ain’t none of youEver drove the ChippewayIn the early days of MayWhen a norther blew,When the river water frozeIn your boots an’ in your clo’es—Freezin’, thawin’, freezin’.If this stem of mine finds outWhen there’s water ’round about,Surely there’s a reason.

You ain’t never had the luck

Swampin’ in the snow;

None of you ain’t never stuck

To your boot-tops in the muck

When it’s ten below.

There ain’t none of you

Ever drove the Chippeway

In the early days of May

When a norther blew,

When the river water froze

In your boots an’ in your clo’es—

Freezin’, thawin’, freezin’.

If this stem of mine finds out

When there’s water ’round about,

Surely there’s a reason.

An’, besides, there’s quite a lineOf such signs of rain;There is many another sign’Ceptin’ this old stem of mineThet is just as plain.There is bunions yet—Fer a corn er bunion is’Most as good as rheumatizProphesyin’ wet.When you see a cat eat grass,When you see the small-mouth bassSendin’ up a bubble,When you hear a rain-crow caw—It is simply Nature’s lawIndicatin’ trouble.

An’, besides, there’s quite a line

Of such signs of rain;

There is many another sign

’Ceptin’ this old stem of mine

Thet is just as plain.

There is bunions yet—

Fer a corn er bunion is

’Most as good as rheumatiz

Prophesyin’ wet.

When you see a cat eat grass,

When you see the small-mouth bass

Sendin’ up a bubble,

When you hear a rain-crow caw—

It is simply Nature’s law

Indicatin’ trouble.

Rainin’, is it? So it seems;It’s a nasty night.Yonder how the street lamp gleams!—Like the light you see in dreams,Soft an’ far an’ white,Like the light you seeWhen you let life’s half-hitch slip,When you kind of lose your gripOn the things thet be.An’ I sometimes think the shoreThet we all are headin’ forLooks so far an’ ghostly’Cause we’re lookin’ (like to-nightWe are lookin’ at the light)Through a fog-bank mostly.

Rainin’, is it? So it seems;

It’s a nasty night.

Yonder how the street lamp gleams!—

Like the light you see in dreams,

Soft an’ far an’ white,

Like the light you see

When you let life’s half-hitch slip,

When you kind of lose your grip

On the things thet be.

An’ I sometimes think the shore

Thet we all are headin’ for

Looks so far an’ ghostly

’Cause we’re lookin’ (like to-night

We are lookin’ at the light)

Through a fog-bank mostly.

How the asphalt pavements shine!—Almost lookin’ clean.Ev’ry lamp post makes a lineLike the shadow of a pineOn a snowy scene.In the gutter nighLittle ripples curl an’ comb,Little dirty rivers foam,In an hour to die.They are like the stream of life,Full of work an’ play an’ strife,Proud with splash an’ splutter.Each believes himself a flood—Most of us is only mudRunnin’ down a gutter.

How the asphalt pavements shine!—

Almost lookin’ clean.

Ev’ry lamp post makes a line

Like the shadow of a pine

On a snowy scene.

In the gutter nigh

Little ripples curl an’ comb,

Little dirty rivers foam,

In an hour to die.

They are like the stream of life,

Full of work an’ play an’ strife,

Proud with splash an’ splutter.

Each believes himself a flood—

Most of us is only mud

Runnin’ down a gutter.

Rainin’? Sure enough it is,But it ain’t the goods;Doesn’t git right down to bizLike the whirling raindrops whizUp there in the woods.It’s a city shower,Like the other kinds of stuffIn the city, mostly bluff,Lastin’ fer an hour.Up there, when it rains, it rains,Fillin’ rivers, floodin’ plains,Down the mountains washin’.Up there when a rain we git,When we’re really through with it,Things are jest a-sloshin’.

Rainin’? Sure enough it is,

But it ain’t the goods;

Doesn’t git right down to biz

Like the whirling raindrops whiz

Up there in the woods.

It’s a city shower,

Like the other kinds of stuff

In the city, mostly bluff,

Lastin’ fer an hour.

Up there, when it rains, it rains,

Fillin’ rivers, floodin’ plains,

Down the mountains washin’.

Up there when a rain we git,

When we’re really through with it,

Things are jest a-sloshin’.

Fer a rainstorm in the brushIs the wettest thing,Ground beneath you soft as mushAn’ around you all a hush,Not a bird to sing—Jest the drippin’ slowOf the raindrops on the leaves,Spillin’ from a billion eavesOn the earth below;Jest a blanket in the mire,Jest a smudgy kind of fire,Weak an’ slow an’ smoky;Breakfast—pancakes simply lead;Dinner—wet an’ soggy bread;Supper—biscuits soaky.

Fer a rainstorm in the brush

Is the wettest thing,

Ground beneath you soft as mush

An’ around you all a hush,

Not a bird to sing—

Jest the drippin’ slow

Of the raindrops on the leaves,

Spillin’ from a billion eaves

On the earth below;

Jest a blanket in the mire,

Jest a smudgy kind of fire,

Weak an’ slow an’ smoky;

Breakfast—pancakes simply lead;

Dinner—wet an’ soggy bread;

Supper—biscuits soaky.

Rainin’, is it? So it is.Glad I’m high an’ dry.When a man has rheumatizIn this old left stem of hisKeep inside, say I.Now, this city stuffAin’t like woods rain near as wet,Ain’t like woods rain is, an’ yetIt is wet enough.Course the woods rain is the best,It is dampest, healthiest,Better altogether;But I guess I’ll stay insideTryin’ to be satisfiedWith this city weather.

Rainin’, is it? So it is.

Glad I’m high an’ dry.

When a man has rheumatiz

In this old left stem of his

Keep inside, say I.

Now, this city stuff

Ain’t like woods rain near as wet,

Ain’t like woods rain is, an’ yet

It is wet enough.

Course the woods rain is the best,

It is dampest, healthiest,

Better altogether;

But I guess I’ll stay inside

Tryin’ to be satisfied

With this city weather.

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