Wind blows from the north to the south on the great pastoral plains
It’s not a prayer or some magic hoax that makes the fields turn green

He came down from burlington on a train he boarded last week
And the rainmaker will make for us, sweet soft summer rain

It’s a lonely life just telling lies to the people who want what’s good
So the rainmaker went to a hotel out west and ended his rainmaking days

And the people weren’t saved and the flocks wasted away and all the crops were turnеd to hay
And the people startеd to pray for sweet soft summer rain