The Trouble with Rain
At Gran’s I have an awesome time
but when it rains and pours
I’d love to go and splash outside
and Gran keeps me indoors
‘Some kinds of rain don’t bother me’
says Grandma when I mope
‘Not every downpour spoils my day
umbrellas help me cope’
‘But there’s one kind of rain I hate
when I’ve forgot my ’brolly
and if get caught out in it
it makes me mad, by golly’
‘Gran, what’s this rain that gets your goat
and makes your humour fail
could it be the driving drops
that come before the hail?’
‘No that’s not it, I don’t mind those’
Gran answers with a frown
‘I don’t mind hail or sleet or snow
they never get me down’
‘So what?’ I ask, ‘What rain is this
that makes your undies twist?’
‘You really want to know?’ asks Gran
‘I’ll tell, since you insist’
‘The rain I hate and deeply loathe
is drizzle, feather-light
It soaks me so, I’ll catch my death
don’t laugh dear, I just might!’
‘But Gran,’ I say, ‘it’s drizzling now
please come outside with me
Put on your gumboots, coat and hat
we’ll have a ball, you’ll see!’
I splished and sploshed and mucked about
Gran laughed and joined in too
Then Gran said, ‘Well, that wasn’t bad’
and I said,
‘AR
-TI
-SHOO!’
Nadine Cranenburgh