The flowers and trees and herbs will call,
The welcome rain will surely fall
Into every leafy glade,
Making trees and hedges fade.
Then the roads will moistened be.
Everywhere we ploughmen see,
Beaded hedges, drooping flowers,
Dripping in the ceaseles showers.
The field the ploughman bending plod,
Turning up the moistened sod,
On the wrinkled thorn where raindrops cling,
The joyful thrush has perched to sing.
He says, “The rain! The rain is here!
You see! You see! The sky will clear,
Then every bird will happy be,
And weary ploughmen full of glee.”
Billy Russell Age 13