Beneath a slate grey sky
The rooftops are surrounded
By God’s all-seeing eye
The widow in her tiny flat
A refuge from the storm
She prays for her lost children
That they be spared from harm
The drunkard on the corner sits
With eyes as red as sin
He wraps his coat around himself
And prays for one more gin
And speeding through the tunnel
Is a train with tired souls
They pray to reach their station
Through the torrential downpour
And in a corner grocery
Sits a sodden, soggy gent
He prays for one last lottery ticket
Though all his money spent
He prays for one last chance to win
The greatest jackpot prize
There has to be some chance of luck
Beneath these rain-soaked skies!
And in a darkened alleyway
There lives a little cat
She prays for her lost kittens
With fur that’s soaking wet
Through cloudburst after cloudburst
On a dreary rainy day
Each denizen of Brooklyn
Prays in their proper way
On a dreary rainy day
Each denizen of Brooklyn
Prays in their proper way
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