The ponds will go dry
As the rains slowly go,
And the clouds very shy
For she will have none to woo
When the rains go to other lands
She carries her entourage of wind,
Throw into childrens eyes fine sand
And leave a handsome wreck behind
The weather grows hot in the evenings
And in the early mornings, the cold bite,
The dew hung like smoke in the morning
On the village centers vales and heights
But when the heavy rains go
The people complain even more,
But why I do care though
I am glad the mosquitoes go too!
