Why hurry little river?
Off to the sea.
All there is to do, tis'sink in blue,
And all forgotten be.
Stay right here with me,
In the pasture and mead.
Where graceful maples rest,
And grazing cattle feed.
O' my melancholy river,
Fed by lazy, winding streams.
Slow down thy hurried pace,
Linger in my woodland dreams.
Little river rest,
Your banks so clean and fair.
Wild Toms edge out a drink,
On a wing and prayer.
In August heat and sunbeams glisten,
O'er your shallows and sandbars listen.
In nocturnal reverence you're so divine,
My little river, defying all but  time.
Your whisping willows haven,
Bluebirds sleeping in their nest,
Brittle branches sway and swerve,
Steadfast they stand the test.
My little river that goes to and fro,
You wander as if, a need to know.
In Southern air, facing snows embrace,
Run fast or slow, you've won the race.
So why hurry, little river?
Trickling off to oceans sea.
All to do, forget the blue,
And stay right here with me.