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All day it had been raining,
Recife traffic aquaplaning.
God help you if your home was in a cellar!
But neither Jurgen Klinsmann
nor Joachim Loew, his kinsman,
came out onto the pitch with an umbrella.
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Things got worse instead of better.
Even puddles got much wetter,
as the weather really pulled out all the stops.
This was Downpour at its finest,
with conditions least benignest
and very little space between the drops.
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The rain was quite appalling,
bouncing up and then re-falling,
as Müller scored the winner with panache.
And, as both teams got a drenching,
there was palpable fist-clenching
with the Americans all set to make a splash.
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Never was there such a soaking
since the Ark, and I’m not joking,
as gallons simply fell out of the sky.
And everyone was wringing
but they never once stopped singing
until the Stars and Stripes were home and dry.