Will it ever rain again on the dry and dusty land,
Will raindrops hurtle bounce back and fall again,
Will seeds germinate, will roots suck moisture,
Or has the rain indeed gone away to Spain as we have asked?
Fields that are dry with rich earth whirling away,
Fields that are unplanted, hard and hateful.
Will the rain ever drum again on our dusty noisy roofs
Or has the rain in deed gone away to Spain as we have asked?
Flowers that bloom on packets of seeds in the dreamtime,
Flowers that never will bloom in the reality of drought.
Nothing is planted, nothing is growing, nothing lives,
And has the rain indeed gone away to Spain as we have asked?
Vegetable gardens wilted and wilting and unwatered,
Bathtimes that are limited to an all over sponge.
Creeks that are dry with no melodious murmuring of water ,
For the rain indeed has gone away to Spain as we have asked.
Oh Spain what memories we have of you in our thoughts ,
Cold and wet with huge heavy clouds of our childhood hating .
Rain on the washing, rain on the children, rain always on Spain
For that is the country where we have all sent the rain.
This is thematically connected to the poem ‘Did the Rain go to Spain?‘ but is clearly a different work.