There is an old woman
Who walks on our street
With umbrella in hand
And galoshes on feet
As she toddles along
Each person she meets
Gets a wide friendly smile
And good morning greet
I wonder where she goes
On her early morning beat
With flapping raincoat
And galoshes on feet
My rocky bed is empty
With boulders parched and dry
Lichen even cling to them
And grasses, in silt grow high
Not a drop of water glistens
No merry note upon the air
No cooling silver slides and crashes
No gentle mist swirling there
The timid birch are thirsty
The deer don’t pause to drink
Because man changed my water way
To make a Hydro Dam,
I think!
