It rained, it poured, rained so hard
Rained so hard all day
Till all the boys in our school
They came out to talk and playAnd they tossed the ball
Again so high, then again so low
Till it fell into a flower garden
No ones allowed to goWhen a tipsy gypsy lady
All dressed in yellow and green
Says, Come here, come here
My pretty little boy and get your ball againNo, I wont come in and I say ain't coming
Without my playmates all
Im gonna get my father and tell him about it
And then the tears shall fallWell, first she offered an apple sweet
And then a tangerine
Then she offered him a diamond
That seemed to do the trick
That enticed him inWell, she took him by his lilly-white hand
And she led him through the hall
She took him to an upper room
Where no one could hear him call
No, not a soulBury the Bible at my feet
The testament at my head
If my dear father should call for me
Won't you tell him that I am deadBury the Bible at my head
And the testament at my feet
If my dear mother should call for me
Won't you tell her that Im asleep
Songwriters
Andrew Wegman BirdPublished by
WEGAWAM MUSIC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.