And if the sheep get harder, then a few more men will funk,
Unless we get another fall of rain.

But the sky is clouding over, and the thunder’s muttering
loud,
And the clouds are driving eastward o’er the plain,

And I see the lightning flashing from the edge of yon black
cloud,
And I hear the gentle patter of the rain.

So, lads, put on your stoppers, and let us to the hut,
Where we’ll gather round and have a friendly game,
While some are playing music and some play ante up,
And some are gazing outwards at the rain.

But now the rain is over, let the pressers spin the screw,
Let the teamsters back the waggons in again,
And we’ll block the classer’s table by the way we’ll put them
through,
For everything is merry since the rain.

And the boss he won’t be rusty when his sheep they all are
shorn,
And the wringer’s wrist won’t ache much with the pain
Of pocketing his cheque for fifty pounds or more,
And the second man will press him hard again.


“Another Fall of Rain” is a song that needs a little