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Our recent soggy weather has brought back fond (?) memories of a trip I took several years ago to New Zealand, a trip that included vast quantities of rain. On my third day of hiking, after seven or eight inches of rain, I came across a poem by an anonymous author that summarized the experience:
It rained and rained and rained
The average fall was well maintained.
And when the streets were simple bogs
It started raining cats and dogs.
After a drought of half an hour
We had a most refreshing shower.
And then most curious thing of all
A gentle rain began to fall.
Next day but one was fairly dry
Save for one deluge from the sky.
Which wetted the city to the skin,
And then at last–the rain set in.
