Can a beautiful gushing brook gather its skirts, like a noisy woman bent on fits and starts, to rustle up her garment and brace up her laces, like she had lost her way up a wayward start...
I say, I say! Can the watchful trees and polished rocks, turn their backs on a shiver from a ripple when the water shoots up a merry dance all supple... In the end, I'd say my friend, just not today, and if you want some action from a make believe tavern Come back for a slip-up splash, all grand and up for a bang some other kind and silent day
