Raindrops keep fallin, and I’m wet;
I guess you could say that I’m having a wet-à-tête.
It streams then it drips.
Those raindrops are fallin’, so I fret
and I’m bawlin’.

So I just did some rug-cuttin’ for the sun;
doing a rain rhumba at this juncture would be dumb…
being in a bog

Those raindrops are fallin’, and my pets—
they are squallin’.

Glugging a drink, that’s so
I’m stewed and drenched completely—
it’s three-sheets me.
Another round spills, and I’m wet,
but now pleasingly.

Graindrops are calling me to bed—
too much distillate, I’m afraid, has gone to my head—
lyin’ quietly.
I can’t stop the rain, so I digress to grain-drainin’.
A drunken spree’s
just right for sunken me.