Where Go the Boats?

 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.

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