Copyright © 2004 by Paul Howarth
All Rights Reserved

O tell me pretty river!
Whence do thy waters flow?
And whither art thou roaming,
So pensive and so slow?

"My birth place was the mountain,
My nurse the April show'rs;
My cradle was a fountain,
O'er curtained by wild flow'rs.

One morn I ran away,
A madcap, hoyden rill;
And many a prank that day
I'd play'd a down the hill!
And many a prank that day
I'd play'd a down the hill!

And then mid meadowy banks
I flirted with the flow'rs,
That stooped with glowing lips,
To woo me to their bow'rs.

But these bright scenes are o'er,
And darkly flows my wave,
I hear the ocean's roar,
And there must be my grave.

But these bright scenes are o'er,
And darkly flows my wave,
I hear the ocean's roar,
And there must be my grave."

Vocal Line

By Arthur Sullivan
Generated by NoteWorthy Composer

The River
Lyrics
Vocal
Right Hand
Left Hand