Forty days and nights of rain in the Frisco Bay.
Sinking, we're singing "Anchors Aweigh."
We need an ark to sail away.

Soggily sopping soil can't hold aloft a tree--
There's a sagged oak hanging over me,
Rain-rotted roots rip soddenly.

Wish this wet would go; we need No-ah right away.
Everything is sopped, though we've mopped for forty days.

Forty days—it's like Seattle, W-A.
Will we ever see a sunny day?
Giants, As—chronic rain delay.

Wish this wet would go; we need No-ah right away.
Everything is sopped, though we've mopped for forty days.

Forty days of deluge downpour without delay--
I watch my neighbor's house slide away,
Over the cliff, into the bay.

Drip, drip, rip grip, dip, slip! SHIP!!