The River

The River`s a wanderer;
A nomad,a tramp,
He doesn`t choose one place
To set up his camp

The River a winderer;
Through valley and hill
He twists and he turns,
He just cannot be still.


The River` a horder,
And he buries down deep
Those little treasures
That he want to keep.

The River`s a baby,
He gurgles and hums,
And sounds like he`s happily
sucking his tumbs.

The River`s a singer,
As he dances along,
The countrysite echoes
The note of his song.

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