The summer wind is blowing westwardnover the field of fresh moved haynLet's go up to the barn loftnlay back and watch the sparrows playnI can see the evening skynfrom the holes rusted in the tinnLet's close our eyes and fall asleepnand listen to the storm roll innnIt sounded like a thousand horses' hoovesnThe sound of the pourin' rain on the old tin roofnThe clouds were as black as the smoke form the stacknof an old coal-burning trainnLay back and listen to the sound of the pourin' rainnnIt ain't rained in weeks and now it just won't stopnAll the rivers and the creeksnare getting fuller with every dropnIf the levee holds it's groundnand keeps that water backnthe Mississippi won't reach my little tar-paper shacknnWell now the sun shines on the roofnand the moonshine is in the cellarnand what a happy feller I amnto finally see the sunnnow that the rain is donen'cause I've had about all I can standnI can't tell where my pond beginsnan where my cornfield endsnThe cattle done floated awayn'cause the water's up over the fence