On the crying of the river
Someone wise, would never quiver
Happy hearts lashed the woods
To let the nubile, sway the broods
Spirits of heaven, placed the throne
Around which grace would groan
On the bosom of the river
Angels will walk and worship ever
Several bouts of devils have trod
On demand of maverick God
Waving away the steps of sorrow
Saints would let the happiness borrow
We all will gather at the river
Where sadness shall reach never
Someday there will rise a day
That will swallow the moistened bales of hay
Still our visits will never cease
Even if we will be mercilessly teased