It's raining in my heart;
My holidays lie in ruins.
And what is this dampness I feel
Seeping through my underpants?

My beloved lies dead
'Neath the bloodied wheels of a coach;
O how short was his life;
And now he's squashed like a tortoise.

The poppies are waving in the wind
Bidding farewell to my obese lover,
A victim of heavy holiday traffic
On the byways of summertime Picardy.

My ***** feel my pain keenly:
Where on earth shall I find another
*****-minded *** beast like him?
O, it's raining in my heart!