Y+W: It's raining; It's pouring  Don't sing a song that's boring...    Dot: There's a plain up in Maine  Where there're tiny drops of rain  Forming ripples in a puddle that they make.  And that puddle grows beyond  Into something called a pond  Spreading outward 'til it turns into a lake.    When that lake springs a leak  Then it forms a little creek  Which goes rushing down and turns into a stream.  And the water keeps on flowing  So that trees can keep on growing  In a pattern that is showing nature's scheme.    And every flower, every weed  Get the water that they need  From that little tiny stream which trickles by.  Y+W: And in the swamp it picks up germs  From bacteria and worms  And if you drink it you'll get really sick and die.    Dot: Hey, this is my song!    Dot: The stream joins a river  And goes racing to deliver  All the water as it rushes to the sea.  Then it flows into a bay  Where it's quickly swept away  To the ocean, filled with motion, swirling free.    Then the sun shines on down  Putting heat upon the ground  And evaporating mist into the air.  And the water starts to rise  As it lifts into the skies  And soon there is rain, on that plain, up in Maine.    Y+W: And that rain  Is a pain  So why don't they build a drain?    Dot: For water has position  Which is always in transition  From the mountains to the oceans to the sky.  Y+W: And it's something you can drink  Or that you spit into the sink  If you control the way it goes  You can shoot it out your nose  If you try  Dot: And now you both can say goodbye!  Hyah! [throws something which shatters]