The Trouble with Rain

By Nadine Cranenburgh

 

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!’