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]