To talk of the weather is nothing but folly,
For when it rains on the hill, the sun shines in the valley.
Maayres taails an' mackerel sky,
Not long wet, nor not long dry.
Berkshire.
When the wind veers against the sun,
Trust it not, for back 'twill run.
Rainbow to windward, foul falls the day;
Rainbow to leeward, damp runs away.