Flower Rain

The Hon. Freddie Threepwood, who had a poor singing–voice but was a game trier, had been annoying his father of late by crooning a ballad ending in the words:

       'It is not raining rain at all:

          It's raining vio–o–lets.'

It seemed to Lord Emsworth now that matters had gone a step farther. It was raining flower–pots.

Leave it to Psmith. 11.4 Almost Entirely about Flower–Pots