Do you know what it is I’m thinking of doing?
I’m going to fall, see.
That’s what I’m going to do.
Bingo. Splat.
I’m a man of ambition, really;
by crikey, the wind’s stronger than I thought;
I’ve landed on a dratted sheep
(crawling with sheep, it is, on Plynlimon;
and always eating). I
think I’ll trickle down a little, look you,
out of the wind; or out of the sun -
there’s a very nasty-looking patch of blue, see,
come creeping up the valley;
up to no good, I reckon.
Be careful now, we’ll stick it out together.
It’s happening again....
I’m going to fall...I’m...Spot on; smack in that trickle;
and not bad rings either, considering; concentric, you know.
I’m really moving now; swirling down;
Oh mam, I’ve made it;
Oh, they’d be proud of me up your place;
we’ve all made it.
I’m a raindrop, see,
and I’m going places -
the Caribbean it is I’ve set my heart on -
and here I come
by way of Newtown,
Shrewsbury, Bewdley, Worcester,
Upton-upon-Severn
and Gloucester and Bristol by Land of my Fathers
and oh! the gigantic Atlantic!.........
if I don’t get bloody well evaporated.
(April, 1983)
