Tennyson's Brook & Pakistan's Crook

I come from haunts of boot and ‘urn,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out a new pattern,
To bicker down a valley.

Till last by Delhi's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I klunker over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into marching bays,
I babble on stone marbles.

I order, order, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I steal by laws and grassy plots,
Under Margalla cloud covers;
I move the judges and justices
That grow for happy lawyers.

I shoot, I slide, I charge, I glance,
Among my skimming gallows;
I make the wary peasants dance
Against my sandy khakis.

I murmur under crescent stars
In Balochi wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my epaulets;

And out again throw curve and flow
To join the crying river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

With apologies to Lord Alfred Tennyson for abusing The Brook