Musings on the Rain (aka, The Cloudy Tank)

It has little shame,

The Irish rain,

Alas ye man on foot, ye beast of hoof,

T’would be a great little country

If we could get her a roof.

 

Prologue:

Yet all without that can be seen

Is often a shade of deepest green,

How often have you stopped to thank

The contents of the cloudy tank?

Reply, I'm all eyes.

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