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The hardest thing in the world to do,
When sleep'n under a roof of tin;
Is to get out of bed in the mornin',
With rain a-set'n-in.

Don't know why it sets ya mind to ease,
To hear that pitter-patter;
But most folks sure do like that sound,
Tis just the fact of the matter.

Even though there was work to do,
Before the shower came;
All that seems important now,
Is listen'n to the rain.

There's somethin' soothin' 'bout the sound,
Of tin be'n struck by rain;
It's like the sound of wheels 'gainst rails,
When ride'n on a train.

Yes... one of life's greatest pleasures,
In all accounts of men;
Is a rainy Saturday mornin',
A-sleep'n under tin.

I think there's a special place in heaven,
Very far away from sin;
For who-ever it was that invented,
That stuff on roofs called tin.