[From Manxiana, 1870]


Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain,
Morning, noon, and night;
O'er mountain, valley, and plain,
Wherever you happen to sight.

The Claddagh is flooded o'er,
The Sulby river's a sea,
The sea has flooded the shore,
And the shore has flooded the sea:

So 'tis water here and there,
And water high and low;
Boiling and surging everywhere,
Where'er you happen to go.

I see the stilting boy,
Stilting from cot to cot ;
And neighbours shouting out
"Ahoy Bring us of food a jot.

" Our food is all of it swammt,
Our bread and herrings are gone ;
Our barley-meal is dampt,
And we have not of tatties a stone."

I see a man in a boat,
Sculling himself along;
Another on plank afloat,
All gazed at by the throng.

Some women are wading through,
And children holding on;
Crying with piteous hue,
That death was coming on.

The sheep, and cattle, and all,
Look doleful all in plight,
Waiting the water's fall,
To get of grass a bite.

The water's fall will come,
And with it fell disease ;
Visiting every home,
On every one 'twill seize.

Low fever along St. Jude's,
A district of terrible damp ;
Where toads, and frogs, and vermin broods,
Sing of the dismal swamp.

It drove the parson away,
A right good man was he;
A Bishop in name, and say
A saint in charity.

Rheumatic, rheumatic, rheumatic,
In every limb and joint;
In lower room, kitchen, and attic,
Limbs many there'll be to anoint.

Take care, ye that live on the peat,
Or ye'll sink in the miry swamp,
And a horrible death ye'll meet,
Slow and sure in its deadly damp.


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Any comments, errors or omissions gratefully received The Editor
HTML Transcription © F.Coakley , 2002