Oh greyest cloud. Over the river ever flowing.
Faster than a whisper but as silent as the wind.
As the current flows what do I see.
But the birds flying and swimming on front of me. Oh water so cold,
Oh current so fast.
Spurred by the wind moving fast.
As I look across what do I see,
Is this where I want to be.
Under the sky do grey, and the cold of the early spring day.
Across the horizon do I see, another world another city.
Another place where people be,
And from the haven where I be.
Will the whisper of the great see, and the river let me be. Where it is I’d like to be.
SimonB writes 