[Verse 1] In a cold clear cut of a mountain stream Where the stones are sharp and pale Little flick of silver in the alder shade Just a thumbprint Just a tale He learned the pull of every hidden pool Every root that touched the flow With the sky so close he could taste the rain And the melt of the springtime snow [Chorus] Oh King of the river Crown of bone and fin Carried by currents Carried by wind From the high green hills to the salt-blue foam Oh King of the river Far from home [Verse 2] Down past the sheep and the rusted gate Past the mills with their sagging eyes Where the boys throw stones from a leaning bridge And the gray smoke smudges the skies He felt the tug grow stronger in his chest As the sweet stream turned to brine And the world grew wide as the gulls cried hoarse At the edge of the broken line [Chorus] Oh King of the river Crown of bone and fin Carried by currents Carried by wind From the high green hills to the salt-blue foam Oh King of the river Far from home [Verse 3] Years rolled by in the rolling swell He grew scarred and broad and bright With a back like iron and a seaman’s stare That had tasted the winter nights Then a single thought like a distant bell Called him over the turning tide To the moss-dark stones and the narrow run Where his scattered brothers died [Bridge] He shouldered storms He shouldered nets He slipped through teeth of steel Past painted hulls and harbor lights On a hunger he could feel Each bend he knew though the banks had changed Where the roads ran Loud and long Still the water hummed like his mother’s breath Still it whispered “This is your song” (ohh) [Verse 4] But a man in boots by the river mouth Cast his patience in the spray With a line so fine and a fisherman’s grin And a prayer for a lucky day There was one sharp flash Then an aching weight Then the world turned Air and sky Laid out on boards by a garden fence With the twilight drifting by [Chorus] Oh King of the river Crown of bone and fin Carried by currents Carried by sin From the high green hills to a stranger’s home Oh King of the river Carved from stone [Verse 5] Now the smoke curls slow from a quiet yard As the last birds fold their wings There’s a plate set neat and a jug of ale And a child at the back door sings They will bless this flesh with a laughing grace They will salt him Slow and kind And his kingdom runs through their crimson hands Through the stories they leave behind [Outro] So raise your glass to the ones that rise And the ones that never learn For the same deep fire that pulls them home Is the fire where their bones may burn Oh King of the river Eaten Gone Yet he swims where the old songs run In the mouth In the blood In the evening talk In the last low light of the sun

folk, Dramatic 1960s British folk ballad, live acoustic trio: male vocals, close-mic’d, over fingerpicked steel-string guitar and soft upright bass, with brushed snare entering on later verses. Dynamic arc from hushed storytelling to full-throated lament in the final chorus. Occasional unison backing hums on refrains, small-room reverb for an intimate village-hall performance., vocal, british folk, dramatic, ballad

King of the River