WHERE GO THE BOATS?
  Dark brown is the river,     Golden is the sand.
  It flows along forever     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.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON