(Another Version of Shelley's partial view of the subject.)
I bring cats and dogs, and November fogs,
For the folks of Cockney land;
And I brew the flood of slush and mud
In Fleet Street and the Strand.
From my watery bed spring colds in the head,
And highly inflam'd sore-throats;
And I'm the Mama[[7]] of the bad Catarrh,
And the Mother of Waterproof Coats.
I gave birth to Goloshes and Macintoshes,