Go right down to the water's edge

Where the rippling waves fall still,

Where the kingfisher dives for a silver bream

And goes flying home with the kill.

Go right down to the water's edge

Where the breezes blow your hair,

Where the Darter sits on the dying branch

And escapes from a camera's stare.

Go right down to the water's edge

Where the sun reflects the morn,

Where the Egrets flock in the evening light

And will scatter again at dawn.

Go right down to the water's edge

Where the sand is smooth and dry,

Where the Fish Eagle sits with the morning catch

And leaps yelping into the sky.

Go right down to the water's edge

Where the carols of heaven ring,

Where the pied Crow squawks with the devil's cry

And lays claim as the lakeshore king.

After a walk round the Chikankata Dam with Catherine

July 1976