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

With sheer joy, while Ballarat

 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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