Rain was siling down in stair rods on that Tuesday afternoon,
with the river rising higher all the while,
with it brimming on its banks so we predicted pretty soon
that the Ouse’d be a floodplain like the Nile.
It was oozing through the doors and running down the cellar stairs,
like a waterfall that filled the floors with sludge,
and just when you believe that you can start on the repairs,
it starts again as if it had a grudge.
It washed away the gardens and it washed away the cars,
and even tried to wash away big trucks;
with all the devastation of the torrent’s scary scars,
can’t believe it’s only half way up the ducks.