The Martha Brae River

There is a river, and its vigor never cease There is a river, the Martha Brae river I have seen it and knew strange peace Looking on its brown spate of muddy water I see no Pharpar nor Abana sterile clean And clear, but there the yams grow better And the farmers sleep is rich and serene And the cattle gets grass to make its butter. There is a river, the Martha Brae river And its vigor never cease, there is a river Rolling down the Cockpit full of laughter Watch it court rains and brim to disaster And then wicked man drinking of God's grace Meet its spate for justice, and face its laws You cannot bite on gall without a bitter taste She is nature's potent justice for man's flaws The Martha Brae is a river, a cunning river Watch her like a woman with a flimsy lover Watch her against class and race pass water Watch her when the winds make clouds shudder With the passion of a touch, hear her belly Roaring as she comes her brown bosom open This river shall make the land like Naaman holy This river shall baptize us to believe in heaven