In Northern streams and rivers in the Spring of the year
The song of the dipper rural people hear
Above the sound of the rapid waters babbling along
One cannot mistake his unmistakeable song.
The dark brown northern dipper with breast as white as snow
On a rock in the river around where waters flow
He sings and as he sings he bobs up and down
In his watery home by the old rural town.
A bird of the waterways rural people know
The dipper he sings when the winds of rain blow
In great numbers his kind are not to be found
And for them rural waterways always home-ground.
From under the riverbank they first saw light of day
And for the rest of their lives in the river they stay
They walk under water a remarkable feat
In their search for tiny river life for to eat.
White breasted small water birds mostly dark brown
The song of the dipper a song that was passed down
From long dead ancestors many centuries ago
Of a life out of water they do not seem to know.