It’s raining out in the garden
it’s raining inside in my heart
(an inconvenient desolate part
for which I crave your pardon)
it’s coming down in torrents
it’s coming down with force
it’s watering the golf course
(I view that with abhorrence).
It’s dissolving all my barriers
it washes away my walls
my objections to you fall
(if you asked me I’d marry ya
my sweet bedraggled sparrow).
You come to me with the rain
washing away my pain
with a promise for tomorrow.
If there were flowers they’d be battered
if there were oak trees they’d be bare
(as it is you have no rainwear)
and your straw hat’s bent and tattered
by the force of our life’s storm
by the sunshine and the wind
by the things we’ve left behind
by the hope that runs before.