Y+W: It's raining; It's pouring Don't sing a song that's boring...
Dot: There's a plain up in Maine Where there're tiny drops of rain Forming ripples in a puddle that they make. And that puddle grows beyond Into something called a pond Spreading outward 'til it turns into a lake.
When that lake springs a leak Then it forms a little creek Which goes rushing down and turns into a stream. And the water keeps on flowing So that trees can keep on growing In a pattern that is showing nature's scheme.
And every flower, every weed Get the water that they need From that little tiny stream which trickles by. Y+W: And in the swamp it picks up germs From bacteria and worms And if you drink it you'll get really sick and die.
Dot: Hey, this is my song!
Dot: The stream joins a river And goes racing to deliver All the water as it rushes to the sea. Then it flows into a bay Where it's quickly swept away To the ocean, filled with motion, swirling free.
Then the sun shines on down Putting heat upon the ground And evaporating mist into the air. And the water starts to rise As it lifts into the skies And soon there is rain, on that plain, up in Maine.
Y+W: And that rain Is a pain So why don't they build a drain?
Dot: For water has position Which is always in transition From the mountains to the oceans to the sky. Y+W: And it's something you can drink Or that you spit into the sink If you control the way it goes You can shoot it out your nose If you try Dot: And now you both can say goodbye! Hyah! [throws something which shatters]