As rain beats down on canvas,
I squeeze my face through the zip.
The clouds are swelling and angry;
The wind hits my cheeks like a whip.

I retreat to the core of my tent
And trip on the wellies inside.
Still covered in last year's mud,
These purple boots fill my mind.

I am fond of my waterproof shoes.
I ponder their rubbery struggles:
Abandoned for most of the year,
But mighty when dealing with puddles.

The water rises and enters,
It covers my groundsheet in mud,
But I've got wellington armour
To conquer the enemy flood.

I must learn to rely on my wellies,
When storm clouds rumble and growl.
I have come to a happy conclusion:
My wellies will not let me drown.

I squeeze through the zip of my tent
And plant my feet in the slime.
I am met by a brave fellow camper
Wearing wellies the colour of mine.

There are porches all over the country
With lonesome wellies inside.
If ever a storm is a-brewing,
Put them on, take it all in your stride.

‘Where are you going, Sally Ann
Now the nights have become so dark,
Why do you get so restless, say
You want to walk in the park?’
I thought to sit by the fireside
Each time that she ventured out,
It’s cold and damp by the streetlight lamp,
So what was it all about?

‘I need to go where the wind will blow,
Feel the damp caressing my cheek,
The bracing air is a tonic there,
While you sit, and you never speak.
It gets so terribly warm in here,
I feel I can barely breathe,
You sit and enjoy your fireside chair
But me, I just have to leave.’

So I’d go and stare out the window
Just as she left, my Sally Ann,
The thought was crossing my mind just then
Was she meeting some other man?
The question sat on my lips at times
But I thought I’d better not say,
If once I questioned my Sally Ann
It might just drive her away.

I’d watch her stand at the kerbside edge
And ponder which way to go,
She’d walk by the village of Kirby Ledge
Or left, round the bungalow,
It happened often she’d cross the road
And wander off to the mill,
I knew she’d get to the park that way
The other side of the hill.

One night, the rain it came pelting down
I knew she’d be good and wet,
I went to the old umbrella stand
And thought I could catch her yet,
The wind was gusting, the rain blew in,
In flurries under my hood,
I barely could see the way she’d been,
In passing by Farley Wood.

I saw the light of a dim-lit torch
Flashing under the trees,
And wandered over to take a look
Though feeling weak in the knees,
A woman lay on a groundsheet there
Though he had covered her face,
I still could see that her limbs were bare
And thrashing all over the place.

‘Oh Sally Ann,’ I had sobbed, and ran,
While making my way back home,
I cursed the folly of coming out,
It was better I hadn’t known.
Then Sally Ann had opened the door
Said ‘Come in out of the rain.
I went to walk but I cut it short.’
I flew to her arms again.

David Lewis Paget

I stood on the steps of our mansion
Hazel was busy doing the garden
She found a bird’s nest in the bushes
She finished folding the groundsheet
which was a relief to one and all