The rill that flows down from the foothills along by the bracken and heath
Grows into a wide and deep river before the ocean it does meet
It babbles through groves and by hedgerows and receives waters of stream and drain
In dry spells it flows in a trickle and it overflows in heavy rain.
The rill that becomes the big river is millions of years older than the first human
Perhaps it's been flowing forever and it does not have a time span
And people they quickly age and die and the seasons they come and they go
But the river that flows from the mountains forever and ever will flow.
The poet has sung of the river but the poet in eternal rest lay
And the waters that inspired the ballad is flowing towards the sea night and day
Through sunlit fields and by moonlit woodlands it flows and it babbles along
And those waters that never stop flowing will outlive the poet and the song.
The rill that becomes the big river it flows from the foot of the hill
Along by the heather and bracken it's babbling tongue is never still
It winds it's way down from the valley and it's voice will be heard forever more
And it journeys through fields and by hedgerows on it's way to the great ocean shore.
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