Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

Rain - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

'I don't 'old with grousin' about weather,
Nor never did, that's flat:
I jus' takes the good an' bad together
An' lets it go at that:
I jus' lumps it one sort with another,
An' then you can't complain:
But if there's one thing gets my goat more'n another,'
Said Bill, 'it's rain.'

'There's somethin' about the way the sea wets you
As a man can understand:
There's somethin' about the way them green uns gets you
As you can't 'elp feelin's grand;
There's somethin' about getting' wet with salt water -
Well, I guess I can't explain,
But it seems to me as a feller didn't oughter
Get wet with rain.'

'It gets inside your soul-an'-body lashin's,
It trickles down your neck:
It ketches you with little slops an' splashin's,
It's hell on a teak deck:
I've 'ad many a wet shirt in a Cape 'Orner
When she's shipped it good an' green -
But standin' in the rain at a street corner,'
Said Bill, 'That's

'I don't 'old with kickin' about weather,
It ain't no bloomin' good:
I jus' takes the rough an' smooth together,
Same's anybody would:
I guess I've sampled most sorts, late an' early,
O' fancy brands an' plain,
But the only kind as gets my goat fairly,'
Said Bill, 'It's rain.'

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010

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