O good Saint Swithin, please, to you we pray,

On this your high-summer rain-making day –

Of your blest kindness send us sweet, soft showers,

The kind that gently fall for hours and hours,

To heal the sunburnt land of thirst and drought

And nourish the corn that sees the winter out;

And if you grant the boon we humbly ask

We’ll work the harder on each rural task:

We’ll ditch and fence and plough, and milk the cow,

Share with the widder-folk, and feed the sow,

Count out some plantful seeds for poor folks’ needs,

And daily tell God’s Mysteries on our beads.