Sleep, little rose
for the horse starts to weep.
If it touches the river
The horse surely dies
It cries out to the mountains
It cries out to the marsh
Cries out to the river
In a voice loud and harsh
Cry for the horsey
That can't bear to drink
Cry for the river
With water black as ink
With water full of poise n
With water how is pollute d.
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