Rain on a tin roof sounded
Lullaby,
And I fell asleep
As grandma’s Victrola
Played–
“Pharoah’s army got drownded.
O Mary don’t you weep,”
And I was no longer afraid.
Sweet sounds drowned out
My fear and doubt.
In the summertime my brother and I spent our nights in the tin-roofed shed behind the house. I was nine.
The furniture there was sparse–a bed and grandma’s old record player. I remember all the records still. The one mentioned, “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep”, is a negro spiritual, dating back to around the time of the Civil War. In a much later time my mentor, who was in her eighties, sang for me verses of that song I never Knew.
If you have never slept under a tin roof when it was raining, you missed one fine source of peace. The old records became precious memories.