O, HOW IT RAINS!
The wind it is roaring,
The rain it is pouring,
And Sissy and I have been out for a walk;
But is n't it lucky,
We both are so plucky,
The rain cannot scare us from laughter and talk?
I am her big brother
(She hasn't another),
And she's all the sister that ever I had.
No girl could be nearer,
Or sweeter, or dearer:
She's my little lassie, I'm her little lad.
It was in December
(We both can remember)
I drew her about o'er the snow on my sled.
But all fun won't be going,
For though it's not snowing,
There's rain to be kept from my wee Sissy's head.
