During my investigations into poems, prayers, or dances that could be done to make this stop this seemingly eternal rain, I discovered the reason for all this watery misery. It turns out that everybody else in the world is sending their rain over here to get rid of it! That hardly seems fair. Well, thanks a lot, everybody!

Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day.

Rain, rain, go away.
Come again some other day.
Little Arthur wants to play,
In the meadow by the hay.

Rain, rain, go to Spain,
Never show your face again.

Rain, rain, pour down,
But not a drop on our town.

Rain on the green grass,
and rain on the tree,
And rain on the housetop,
but not on me.

Rain, rain, go away,
Come again on washing day.

Rain, rain, go to Germany,
And remain there permanently.

Rain, rain, go away,
Come on Martha’s wedding day.

- from Wikipedia

It doesn’t surprise me at all that Little Arthur would be a golfer. Rain is pretty annoying when you want to be playing golf. I can see why Arthur, as a 20th century Briton, might have some enmity towards Germany, but why all the hate towards Spain? C’mon, Arty!

I wonder what poor Martha did to Arthur to generate such spite.