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

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

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

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