The river is a wanderer,
A nomad, a tramp,
He doesn’t choose one place
To set up his camp.

The river is a weaver,
Through the valley and the hills,
He twists and twines,
Will he ever be still?

The river is a robber,
And buries down deep,
All those small treasures,
Which he must keep.

The river is a performer,
As he dances along,
And the hills echo,
His melodic songs.

The river is a monster,
Hungry and vexed,
But does anyone know,
Who he’ll take next?

The river is an elder,
Ancient and wise,
He disappears into the sunset,
In a marine disguise.

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