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.