Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever.
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating –
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill.
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river
A hundred miles or more.
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore