I hear the tap . . . , tap . . . , tap . . . ,
of the tropical rain,
way down south . . .
further than the Rio Grande.
I can hear it, deep in my mind,
from way back
in my native land,
back where I was born . . .
when I was there.
And the tap . . . , tap . . . , tap . . . ,
fading away
through dancing droplets on the ground,
I will always hear,
until I arrive at the place,
where forevermore, I will abide.