A Song of Rain
by C.J.Dennis
Because a little vagrant
wind veered south from China Sea;
Or else, because a sun-spot
stirred; and yet again maybe
Because some idle god in
play breathed on an errant cloud,
The heads of twice two
million folk in gratitude are bowed.
Patter, patter . . . Boolcoomatta,
Adelaide and Oodnadatta,
Peperonga, parched and dry
Laughs beneath a dripping sky.
Riverina’s thirsting plain
Knows the benison of rain.
Ararat and Arkaroola
Render thanks with Tantanoola
For the blessing they are gaining,
Ant it’s raining --- raining--- raining!
Because a heaven-sent
monsoon the mists before it drove;
Because things happened in
the moon; or else, because High Jove,
Unbending, played at
waterman to please a laughing boy,
The hearts through all a
continent are raised in grateful joy.
Weeps the sky at Wipipipee
Far Farina’s folks are dippy
Shouts and flings aloft it’s
hat.
Thirst Thakaringa yells;
Taltabooka gladly tells
Of a season wet and windy;
Men rejoice on Murrindindie;
Kalioota’s ceased complaining;
For it’s raining --- raining--- raining!
Because a poor bush parson
prayed an altruistic prayer,
Rich with unselfish
fellow-love that Heaven counted rare;
And yet, mayhap, because one
night a meteor was hurled
Across the everlasting blue,
the luck was with our world.
On the wilds of Winininnie
Cattle low and horses whinny
Frolicking with sheer delight.
From Beltana to The Bight,
In the Mallee’s sun-scorched towns.
In the sheds on Darling Downs,
In the huts at Yudnapinna,
Tents on Tidnacoordininna,
To the sky all heads are craning ---
For it’s raining --- raining--- raining!
Because some strange
cyclonic thing has happened – God knows where
Men dream again of easy
days, of cash to spend and spare.
The ring fair Clara coveted,
Belinda’s furs are nigh,
As clerklings watch their
increments fall shining from the sky.
Rolls the thunder at Wudunda;
Leongartha, Boort, Kapunda.
Send a joyous message down;
Sorrows flooded, sink and drown.
Ninkerloo and Nerim South
Hail the breaking of the drouth;
From Toolangi’s wooded mountains
Sounds the song of plashing fountains;
Sovereign Summer’s might is waning;
It is raining --- raining--- raining!
Because the breeze blew
sou’-by-east across the China Sea;
Or else, because the thing
was willed through all eternity
By gods that rule the
rushing stars, or gods long aeons dead,
The earth is made to smile
again, and living things are fed.
Mile on mile from Mallacoota
Runs the news, and far Baroota
Speeds it over hill and plain,
Till the slogan of the rain
Rolls afar to Yankalilla;
Wallaroo and Wirrawilla
Shout it o’er the leagues between,
Telling of the dawning green.
Frogs at Corococ are croaking,
Booboorowie soil is soaking,
Oodla, Wirra, Orroroo
Breathe relief and hope anew.
Wycheproof and Woollongong
Catch the burden of the song
That is rolling, rolling ever
O’er the plains of Never Never,
Sounding in each mountain rill,
Echoing from hill to hill . . .
In the lonely, silent places
Men lift up their glad, wet faces,
And their thanks ask no explaining ---
It is raining --- raining--- raining!
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