A stream on a mountain,
Flowing smoothly across rocks,
Girgling in a musical tune,
So I take off my socks.
I waded in a ways,
The icy water on my knees,
It gurgled on down,
Past the open seas.
Dark fish weren't to be found,
In this humble little stream,
Though the sun shone on it,
With a happy golden gleam.
Bright colored rocks,
Visible from the surface,
Sat at the bottom,
Like a tiny little circus.
There was a little stream,
Running down a mountain,
It ran right into,
A wishing fountain.
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