I Once Knew a Fella

I once knew a fella who had an umbrella

All riddled with holes on top.

And when the rain pitted,

And when the rain pattered,

And when the rain splattered and just wouldn’t stop,

And the water ran into the holes and went through

He stood in his pants, holding soap and shampoo

For fifty five minutes (and sometimes an hour)

Crying ‘Heavens above! What a glorious shower’.

And then when the sun tiptoed out of a cloud

He’d hold his umbrella, and holler out loud:

‘Let the beautiful air through these holes dry my hair’,

And if anyone stared – why, he hadn’t a care!

Yes, I once knew a fella who had an umbrella

All riddled with holes on top.

But one rainy day he was taken away

And marched through the grey grisly town to a shop,

And was bought an umbrella all shiny and new

Which didn’t have holes for the rain to come through,

And then had to use it – well, what could he do?

But although he kept dry, and he tried not to cry

He looked very doleful. I think I know why.

His hole-full umbrella, his one-of-a-kind

Had been taken away, and yes he did mind.

He like being different. He liked getting wet.

And if ever you see that man these days, I bet

He’ll be trudging through town

With a frown

And his mouth turned down

Just shuffling

His feet

Down the street

And won’t stop

Till he finds

An umbrella

With holes

On the top.

 

 

 

 

 

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