While they have been eatingnThe rain has started falling,nGradually gathering in strength;nWhat began a drizzlenHas now become torrential,nAnd doesn't look like coming to an end.nnThe two bedraggled figuresnThat huddle in the doorway,nWith nothing vaguely waterproof to wear,nAre now secretly wishingnThey'd listened to their mothersnWhen being told to always be prepared.nnScreamingn'Geronimo!',nThey run for it down the road;nWith an arm around her waistnHe leads her to a placenHe knows.nnSoaked through, but happy,nThey squelch up to the landing;nThe room before themnMakes a welcome sight.nThe coal fire is throwingnStrange shapes upon the hearthrug,nAnd crying out to be knelt down beside.nnShe pulls off her jumpernAnd flings it in the corner;nHe picks it up and hangs it on a chair.nShe puts on a recordnAnd sings into her coffee;nHe puts a blanket round her,nSits her downnAnd dries her beautiful hair.