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.