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
A river for the dauntless
Cutting through the trees of thought
Beneath the golden bridges
Below the skies that angels sought
No room here for passion
Just ego and despair
That what we need keeps changing
Under the fashions that compare
Ourselves a heavy burden
Easy to blame the simplest man
Than focus our vision inward
To the world that we can’t stand
And cutting through the lessons
Of problems not our own
We find that we can stand tall
Above the needy and the drones
Our river running shallow
The trees all burn and sway
To the rhythm of disaster
As our truth comes out to play
With power that we’ve stolen
We shaped the needs of all
But the dreamscapes that we’ve crafted
Reflects the fear we now recall