KOSCIUSZKO HUTS ASSOCIATION

Oh! hurry little river,

How you prattle, how you quiver,

 

As you ripple down the hillside,

heart a-yearning for the sea.

You tumbling and your falling,

Start the echo voices calling,

And they chase you down the gorges,

with their fiendish shouts of glee.

And their scornful mocking laughter

Come stealing swiftly after

The pursuing feet of winter,

hard behind you on the hill.

Oh! A prisoner he would hold you,

And his icy arms enfold you,

Till you pulsing heart lay frozen,

white and still.

 

His chains of ice would bind you,

Hide you deep where none may find you,

Hush the silvery melodies you sing

into the night.

The flying winds would taunt you,

The clinging fog wraiths haunt you,

And the leering stars would mock your

sorry plight.

 

Trust he'd hold you in his keeping,

never resting, never sleeping.

Only Spring's bright ransome gold,

could set you free.

So, hurry little river,

As you laugh and dance and quiver,

And far beyond the ranges keep your

love tryst by the sea.