The Rain that Came to Stay

‘How much longer this drought,’ he said,

‘The creeks are running dry,

There’s not a lot in the reservoir

And not a cloud in the sky,

The farmers, shooting the cattle that

Have nothing out there to drink,

How much longer this drought,’ he cried

In the pub at Innaminck!

 

The soil had turned to a fine bulldust,

The drought had cracked the clay,

There wasn’t a green shoot anywhere

To be seen by the light of day,

The crops had failed, were ploughed back in

In hopes that the rain would come,

But the skies were clear for the rest of the year

From there to Jerusalem!

 

A tinker called in a beat-up car

And staggered in with his bag,

‘I’m Mickey Malone from County Down

With a thirst that could choke a shag!’

The barman served him a schooner, with

One gulp, he put it away,

But emptied his empty pockets when

The barman asked him to pay.

 

The tinker started his blarney then,

‘I’ll sharpen your knives for free!

Just give me another schooner, chum

And we’ll see what we will see!

I’ll cut your keys, and I’ll wash a dish,

Or I’ll give you a hundred pegs.’

The barman reached and he grabbed his throat,

And lifted him off his legs!

 

‘You’ll have to do better than that, my man,

Don’t drink my beer for free!

I’m taking the wheels of your beat-up car

‘Til you play it straight with me!’

‘Hang on, hang on, just what do you want,

Whatever will pay my due!’

‘We could do with a shower of rain, my man,

But that’s all I’d want from you!’

 

The tinker nodded, ‘No sooner said!

I’ll make it tomorrow noon,

You’ll have to give me a room to rent

And I’ll whip it up in the gloom.’

The barman sneered, ‘You’re having me on,

No way can you make it rain!’

‘You’ll see, tomorrow,’ the tinker said,

‘Though you might think I’m insane!’

 

The barman locked him and his bag in a room,

And took a wheel off his car,

He knew if the tinker tried to escape

He wouldn’t be going far,

But come the dawn, was a distant cloud

Spread out, and up from the south,

It tumbled and turned in the atmosphere

And looked like a dragon’s mouth.

 

At noon the cloud was over their heads,

All black, and threatening rain,

A whirly blew up a dust storm there

And swirled at each window pane,

They locked the door of the pub up tight

And waited, tense as a rag,

The rain came down, ‘Aha,’ he said,

And the tinker patted his bag!

 

The patter of rain was heard on the roof,

The gutters began to fill,

The windows washed of their dust and silt

Right down to the window-sill,

The dust was settled, the ground was wet,

The cattle lowed in the field,

And everyone danced in the yard out there

The tide of their fortunes sealed.

 

The rain grew heavier by the hour,

The creeks had started to flow,

And even the reservoir burst its banks,

With nowhere else to go,

The water flooded across the plain

They waded up to their knees,

‘Enough, enough!’ But Malone replied:

‘Begorra, you’re hard to please!’

 

It rained all night, and the following day,

It rained and rained for a week,

The pub was flooded from wall to wall

The water burst from the creek,

‘You’ve got to stop it,’ the barman cried,

But the tinker stood and frowned,

‘If the water rises much higher than this,

I think that we’ll all be drowned!’

 

‘You said you wanted the rain, all right,

I gave it, now for my pay,

I can’t go on in these tattered clothes

And my car’s a give-away.

I’ll need the van that you’ve parked out front

And a hundred cans of beer,

Not much to ask for your water, chum,

At the drought time of the year!’

 

The barman collared and kicked him out

With his bag and all beside,

The tinker lay in the water there,

His bag had sunk in the tide,

‘Will you stop it now,’ the barman said,

‘Or you’ll wish you’d never been born!’

I can’t!’ The tinker sat and he cried,

‘You’ve drowned my Leprechaun!’

 

It rains and rains at Innaminck,

It rains both day and night,

The pub sank under the water there

In a lake that’s ten miles wide,

The farmers had to desert the land

To leave their sunken homes,

But put out a ‘Wanted’, Nation wide

For a tinker, called Malone!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

I am so glad I read this tonight it was fabulous far beyond most you do it was as good as the demon horse of the carousel ./But once you come to expect such things from another you tend to take them for granted. Your imagination shames a ten year old and excites all the rest.

[Tomás Ó C..]

Im not very good at commenting on posts, suffice to say this is my favourite out of a lot of close contenders. Poor Tinker Malone... and his drowned Leprechaun!

[spiritwind]

You are indeed a Master Storyteller! I sit here laughing out loud at this tale all alone in my room, wishing I had someone here to read it too because that is what kind of tale it is...the kind that is made to be passed around when sitting before the fire with grandpa and grandma and all the little grandchildren. Excellent!

[Priscilla Sayers]

You have the talent of the old poets i cherish... You tongue speaks in ways that romance the adventure in the heart of the reader as you flow effortlessly across the page like Sir Byron, or Chauncer.... I may have spelled his name wrong, but this isn't my best day, though your stories through verse do take me away for a bit my friend and for that I thank you.

[Valentine]

David..you are a brat..just because we are in the worst drought in history..you make me laugh and want to hire this guy to come over and let it pour.People are releasing their horsses because they can't feed them..They are wandering the roads in different states..Fires are breaking out all over..My husband's brother lives near us and they had a big fire that close..Send us that Tinker named Malone..please..You are a riot my friend..love to Lyn and you..God bless..Kathie

[roarke]

Standing ovation this.
A "be careful what you ask for and whom you ask it of" kind of tale.
I like the expression, "tense as a rag" I might even steal it.
Thanks for sharing this instructive tale.

[The Refined Poet]

this poem is tour de force. I love the rhyming and meter. Excellent.

[Baby Ricochet]

Great story, Great rhyming, great metering. You sir are the king of poets

[Marie]

Oh this is fine. People are never satisfied...and not grateful enough either...and are justly served...

[Androglossia]

This made me think of what had recently happened in Manila. The rivers overflowed, people leaving thier drowning homes, some stayed for days on the roof of thier houses. Ah, when mother nature attacks..

You really have an amazing talent and I adore you for it. What more can I say? Your work is spotless! (bows)