RAIN-ON-THE-ROOF

Rain upon the roof in the garret; little fingers knocking on the pane; A fairy voice is calling in the splashing and the falling, “I am the rain—the rain!” Shadows, shadows, shadows, in the corner by the eaves; Wet against the windows lie the little faded leaves. Rain upon the roof in the garret; play we are a pirate crew at sea; Play the old oak chest, in the veil of cobwebs dressed, Is a leaking, creaking ship, the “Stinging Bee”; Play the broken cradle, where our pile of play-things lie, Is an island full of treasure, where we’ll anchor by and by. Rain upon the roof in the garret; shadows, dust, and cobwebs all around; We know the game to play, on a dark and blowy day, And we launch the “Stinging Bee” without a sound; With a pilot at the spinning wheel, we’ll land, at the break of day, On lonely Cradle Island, and steal all the things away.