Signs of Drought

The signs of drouth are everywhere; no one’s seen a drop,
But nowhere is it more evident than in my old ranch shop.
You see, I have a tradition; I don’t suppose I’ll ever change—
The only time I clean my shop is on the days it rains.

Well, the shop is a mess, it would make a strong man blanch,
But I’m not gonna change my traditions, not on the Walther Ranch.
It’s full of precious treasures, like broken doors and such,
One-wheeled carts and harness parts, and stuff we don’t use much.

It’s filled to overflowing, it’s a junk collector’s heaven
I haven’t seen my work bench since back in, oh, ’97.
Sort of, it resembles the landfill, the stuff’s piled everywhere,
I don’t let my neighbors see it, or they’ll start dumping there.

Now, when storm clouds gather, I’m ready with the broom and such,
But these little one-tenth showers, they don’t leave time much.
Well, I did get inside the door on a half-inch back in June,
Thought maybe I could just find my welder, but the sun came out too soon.

Now, this is the facts, I don’t mean to jest,
Even the wood rats that have a nest there are starting to protest.
But I know the drouth will end someday, so I don’t want to complain
But what my shop needs is about, oh, three weeks’ steady rain.

© Jack Walther