Up the Umbrellas

This was written about a 19C meteorologist by the name of John Dalton who followed his final forecast by falling out of bed and giving himself a terminal knock on the skull --

It's raining; it's pouring.
The old man is snoring.
He went to bed and bumped his head,
And couldn't get up in the morning.

-- this was written by William Shakespeare and can be found in Twelfth Night --

When that I was and a little tiny boy
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas, to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still 'had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world began,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

-- and, slightly changed, sung by the Fool, in King Lear --

He that has and a little tiny wit--
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,--
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day.

-- and, given those as clues, you will get no prizes for guessing what at the weather in my vicinity today.