Water boils past the power plant,
In angry green-foamed geysers,
Then barrels along downstream.
The sun plays on ripples
And crests of dirty water.
Onward by a little brick library,
Into the hungry mill yard it rolls.
The sun plays on ripples
And crests of dirty water,
Boiling past the power plant.
The sun plays on ripples
And crests of dirty water.
Pulpwood and paper machines
Mix with pure river fury;
Angry green-foamed geysers.
Progress rolls and squeezes
Fibers, liquid, poisons together,
Then barrels along downstream.
The sun plays on ripples
And crests of dirty water.
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