Long ago, in distant lands, from plains we used to roam,
To snow-filled hills and mountain tops we once had called our home,
From oceans to the northern edge of land consumed by storm,
To southern forests warm with ghosts forgotten and forlorn:
Across these lands the bright rain falls, and nurtures with its touch.
It soothes the people that it feeds; we owe the rainfall much.

So blessed, happy, in the storms, good fathers saw it right
To serve the humble and the poor with all their earthly might.
So in a shower, like the rain, they offered loving gifts
To people, undeserving, from their blessed fingertips.

Across all men, the rain does fall, and nurtures with its touch.
So too ought kings, and all mankind: we owe each other much.
To people, undeserving, life obtained not from their toil
But from the generosity of rain and loving soil.

And so for nature’s kindness, for it’s storms and all we gain
We celebrate in festival the Carnival of Rain