See how the rain falls.
It falls on the tree where he hung.
It falls on the farmer who tied the noose.
And on the grave where the last hymn was sung.
See how the rain falls.
It falls on the farmer who locks the barn door.
It falls on the churchyard ground.
The farmer smiles as he looks at the sky.
"Now my corn won't die."
The evening passes slowly.
He falls asleep by the fire.
The rain runs slowly off the roof.
Rain is a soft lullabye.
In the morning a gentle wind blows
Through the corn and the tree in the grove.
It falls on the tree where he hung.
It falls on the farmer who tied the noose.
And on the grave where the last hymn was sung.
See how the rain falls.
It falls on the farmer who locks the barn door.
It falls on the churchyard ground.
The farmer smiles as he looks at the sky.
"Now my corn won't die."
The evening passes slowly.
He falls asleep by the fire.
The rain runs slowly off the roof.
Rain is a soft lullabye.
In the morning a gentle wind blows
Through the corn and the tree in the grove.
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