As children we sat by that river and named you old silver for the colours you gave. Could of been from the backs of the perch neath the surface could of been from the moon on your waves. We were married in the heat of July, the evening grass took our weight and the breeze that rolled over her hair and the clover, we left none of that first night to waste. You fed my crops and watered my cattle, you cooled the neck of my wife. I'd sit with you till you ever stopped rolling I'd sit with you till you ran dry.
From out of the west a great fire swept, the heavens refused to stir. All of the while with the wee bairns asleep you kept your roar to a purr. You've that silver in your eyes and I've that silver in mine. Money was short an the children cried hunger and in the city you found work as a maid, you came home dejected, so tired and rejected but it was all worth it for the pay. Rumours speard like pollen to sting the eyes and throat and while you bathed in Old Silvers water I found the money in your coat. I never bought up suspicion, acted calm and unconcered. Every night I sit by that river and wait for a plan in return. You my friend, my faithful old river who talks wise and gently of all things, could you? would you? hide her and keep her and for your troubles I'll give you my ring. For you have that silver in your eyes and I have that silver in mine.
The ring sank and so did her body, the sides of your banks traced with blood. Its you and me now old silver river and secret that lies in the mud. Each night as the children lay sleeping I crept to old rivers bank. Shed a tear? no you wont catch me crying but a whisper to silver of thanks. For you ahve that silver in your eyes and I have that silver in mine.