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 twists and he turns
He just can't be still.
The river's a hoarder,
And he buries down deep
Those little treasures
That he wants to keep.
The river's a baby,
He gurgles and hums
And sounds like he's happily
Sucking his thumbs.
The river's a singer,
As he dances along
The countryside echoes
The notes of his song.
The river's a monster,
Hungry and vexed
He's gobbled up trees
And he'll swallow you next.
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