What care I what wins the races?
   What care I for falling stock?
What care I for airs and graces
   Of the flappers on the Block?
All my cares have passed away;
   I'm beyond all dull complaining,
For the skies are leaden grey;
   And it's raining, raining, raining!

Plague me with no pleasant duties
   Of this sunny land of ours,
While the country side and cites
   Are athirst for cooling showers.
All my worries now are sped --
   Now that Sovereign Summer's waning;
And five million folk are fed;
   For it's raining!  RAINING!  RAINING!

"Den"
Sun, 11 May 1927, p7