Where the rain can stack up to the tip of your nose,
Lives the lonely umbrella man, hoping each day
That a couple of customers wander his way.
No one knows how he got there or how come he stays,
But he twirls his umbrellas and passes his days
In the hopes that somebody--some lady or fella--
Will chance to pass by him and buy an umbrella.
Perhaps he'd do better to offer bananas,
Since all of the locals are chimps and their Nanas.
Umbrellas, however, are simply his passion,
For rain or for sun or for fun or for fashion.
And even if not one umbrella gets sold,
He'll stick with umbrellas until he grows old.
So if you admire his true dedication,
Then drop what you're doing and plan your vacation.
Just leave your umbrella back home, I propose,
And come to the jungle where nobody goes.