As the rippling waters rise and fall,
We join their dance on a gleaming wall,
Or climbing high on the moon’s bright rays,
We sing till the sun on the terrace plays,
Then hide again in our holes and caves,
Where our tired feet the water laves,
And we watch poor mortals come and go,
They see not the fun we have below.
Oh! what tricks we play! They know not why
The geysers gush, and the steam-clouds fly: