Down by the leaden Stour
The miller’s tale is at an end
In a wood at the water’s edge
Rooks are nesting overhead
Here, beneath the clouds
Black waters rise, again

Down by the leaden Stour
Fog is settling on the fields
Pathways disappear
Footfalls led astray

By the riverside
A penny for the ferry
New stones for the churchyard
A hundred years have passed
Black waters rise, again

Down by the leaden Stour
Hawks are circling overhead
A sundial by the yew trees
A guinea for a life

By the riverside
There’s wood for the gallows
And food for the crows
The carriers of souls
Black waters rise
One hundred years have passed
Black waters rise, again

By a curve of the river
At the end of the road
Black waters rise, again

Black waters rise
One hundred years have passed
Black waters rise, again