Run, run, thou tiny rill;
Run, and turn the village mill;
Run, and fill the deep, clear pool
In the woodland's shade so cool,
Where the sheep love best to stray
In the sultry summer day;
Where the wild birds bathe and drink,
And the wild flowers fringe the brink.
Run, run, thou tiny rill,
Round the rocks, and down the hill;
Sing to every child like me;
The birds will join you, full of glee:
And we will listen to the song
You sing, your rippling course along.