THE RIVER

The River's a wanderer
A nomad, a tramp
He doesn't choose one place
To set up his camp.

The River's a winder
Through valley and hill
He twist and he turns
He just cannot be still.

The River's a hoarder
And he buries down deep
Those little treasure
That he wants to keep.

The River's a baby
He gurgles and hums
And sound like he's happily
Sucking his thumbs.

The River's a singer
As he dances along
The countryside echoes
The notes of his songs.

The River's a monster
Hungry and vexed
He's gobbled up trees
And he'll swallow you next.