I wonder if the river gets tired?
It runs and runs but never stops,
It rushes onward toward the sea,
Foaming, Swirling, round the rocks.
I guess it never actually halts.
So therefore it mustn’t be tired,
Because if it were, it surely would rest,
It only runs past to be admired.
So rivers never do get tired,
Though lazy, sometimes yes,
When rain isn’t doing her part,
Or isn’t giving her best.
But when the rain is feeling well,
And fills the river true
The river rushes, madder still.
To get to the ocean blue.