Y+W: It's raining; It's pouring

Don't sing a song that's boring...



Dot: There's a plain up in Maine

Where there're tiny drops of rain

Forming ripples in a puddle that they make.

And that puddle grows beyond

Into something called a pond

Spreading outward 'til it turns into a lake.



When that lake springs a leak

Then it forms a little creek

Which goes rushing down and turns into a stream.

And the water keeps on flowing

So that trees can keep on growing

In a pattern that is showing nature's scheme.



And every flower, every weed

Get the water that they need

From that little tiny stream which trickles by.

Y+W: And in the swamp it picks up germs

From bacteria and worms

And if you drink it you'll get really sick and die.



Dot: Hey, this is my song!



Dot: The stream joins a river

And goes racing to deliver

All the water as it rushes to the sea.

Then it flows into a bay

Where it's quickly swept away

To the ocean, filled with motion, swirling free.



Then the sun shines on down

Putting heat upon the ground

And evaporating mist into the air.

And the water starts to rise

As it lifts into the skies

And soon there is rain, on that plain, up in Maine.



Y+W: And that rain

Is a pain

So why don't they build a drain?



Dot: For water has position

Which is always in transition

From the mountains to the oceans to the sky.

Y+W: And it's something you can drink

Or that you spit into the sink

If you control the way it goes

You can shoot it out your nose

If you try

Dot: And now you both can say goodbye!

Hyah! [throws something which shatters]