The Voice Of The Rill

For as long as i live i always will
Hear the distinctive voice of the silver tongued rill
Flowing down to the river from the foot of the hill
With a familiar babble that is never still

Long before the first human looked on the lamp of day
Down to the big river it babbled it's way
In the age of the dinosaurs it was very old
And the true story of it's birth as a mystery remain as untold

The Seasons do come and the Seasons do go
But time to the rill never becomes it's foe
The inspiration of the writers of song, story and rhyme
Like the land it flows on it does not age in time

In Winter in heavy rainfall it's babble louder grow
And it's tongue turns brown as bank high it does flow
The fact is the rill is forever and fact never lie
And us humans are mortals we are born for to die

From the foot of the hill down-land it does race
And in the flatter land flows at a slower pace
It has been the inspiration of song, story and rhyme
And it was very old in the dinosaur time.