We in the dust bowl listen Listen for the patter of nourishing rain;
We look to the skies for those gray-black lines Heralding the approach of precipitation again.
The rolling thunder we await; The darkening and humid veils of moisture To give relief to the farmers again.
In this monotonous lack of rain, In the days of partly cloudy, mostly sunny and “A chance of rain”…
We look to those skies for that precious water
To bring us, parched in mind, arid in spirit,
We who look day by day
Skyward at the slightest mention of rain,
We who hope for rain Pray it shall come soon.
The forecasters say we really need
Nine to fifteen inches just to bring
Even the slightest relief to the drought.
What extra must we have For the crops to prosper?
Is there even a chance for any of the farms to green again?
Is there a chance for so great an amount of rain?
O let the rolling storms come again, And bring relief to this dry land.