This gully-washer’s been goin’ on
three days now since Mundee,
and won’t let up a lick,
the clouds are plumb full to the brim
and pitching a hellova hissy fit
The Day Ten prompt was to write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon. I grew up in Nashville, Tennessee (USA) where it rains more than Seattle, not gentle continuous drizzles but storms with heavy downpours. Such a storm was often called a gully-washer or a toad-strangler. I threw in a few other colorful expressions and pronunciations that I heard growing up just for fun of it.