When the land is dry and the sky is blue and high
And it doesn’t rain or look as if it ever will,
Then you know that maybe your childhood image
Of Spain obscured by dark clouds, pouring rain
Must be true. Rain, rain go to Spain and come
Again on Mothers washing day. Remember that one?

The crops that were planted have shrivelled,
The land is one vast dust bowl of misery.
There is no food for the children from parents
They have to rely on outside feeding programmes
We think and know we have it hard but this is worse
For when will it ever end and life be good again.

You can sit in a cosy armchair watching T.V.
And you listen to the wise commentators who know –
THEY KNOW it is because of fighting and strife
That the children go hungry. Or corrupt Government –
Or all sorts of things. Subsistence farmers
All need the benison of rain to soak the ground.

Friable land will grow crops again. Look forward –
But when you look forward do you overlook today?
Do you not see the millions of children who die
As you say its happened before and will recur?.
But this is real children, real flesh and blood
And they suffer as we all suffer from privations.

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