From Northenden to Partington it’s rain From Altrincham to Chadderton it’s rain From Moss Side to Swinton hardly Spain It’s a picture postcard of “wish they never came”
And whilst that deckchair in the garden it makes no sense It doesn’t spoil the view or cause offence Those Floridas, Bavarias and Kents Make gentlemen wear shorts but don’t make gents
So convertible stay garage-bound Save after-sun for later If rain makes Britain great Then Manchester is greater As you dry your clothes once again Upon the radiator What makes Britain great Makes Manchester yet greater
From Cheetham Hill to Wythenshawe it’s rain Gorton, Salford, Sale pretty much the same As I’m caught up without my jacket once again The raindrops on my face play a sweet refrain
And as winter turns reluctantly to spring For the clouds above the city there’s one last fling Swallows build their nests, chaffinch sing And the sun strolls into town like long lost king
And the mood of this whole sodden place is melancholy Like the sun came out to play, shone through the clouds But dropped its lolly And everyone looks so disappointed, so, so sorry Like the rain blew into town, kidnapped the sun And stole its brolly