  No more I hear the waters roar, Roused at the comin' of the bore, No more the river turns agen, To sweep across the level fen; No more the winds in fury ride Along the marshes wild and wide Afore the risin' of the tide: The waters roam no more. No more I wade along the fen For heron or for water hen, Nor hug the bottom of my boat As to the feeding ducks I'd float; Nor ambushed laay wi' rovin' eye To watch like specks agen the sky The wild geese circlin' on high: The waters roam no more. No more I creep, nor crouchin', run, Nor trail my owd long-barrelled gun Nor listen 'ow the water laps About my sunken fishin' traps; 'Tis eighty year sin, as a boy, I first 'elped at the duck decoy, An' now—I know but little joy: The waters roam no more. My feyther knew the hidden ways, Across the waste and marshy maze, He knew each haunt of bird an' fish, An' how to find 'em at his wish; While sometimes in his punt he'd sing Until the reedy dykes'd ring, But now's the end of everything: The waters roam no more. When, on a stormy winter's night There stirs a noise, or sudden light, I lay an' pant, to hear 'em shout In panic 'coz the water's out; For long I look, an' anxious strain; Alas! my hope is allers vain, An' sad I go to sleep again: The waters roam no more. No more the waters roam the land, But hid away on every hand Are led in channels to the sea, Instead of flowin' fancy free, Instead of roarin' fierce an' wild The same as when I wor a child, They creep imprisoned an' defiled: The waters roam no more. |
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