  And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman, Who at Blackfriars Bridge us'd for to ply, And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity, Winning each heart and delighting each eye. He look'd so neat and row'd so steadily, The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily, And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air, That this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare. What sights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry, 'Twas cleaned out so nice and so painted withall, He always was first oars when the fine city ladies, In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall. And oft-times would they be giggling and leering, But 'twas all one to Tom their jibing and jeering, For loving or liking he little did care, For this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare. And yet but to see how strangely things happen, As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all, He was ply'd by a damsel so lovely and charming, That she smil'd, and so straightway in love he did fall. And would this young damsel e'en banish his sorrow, He'd wed her to-night, before even to-morrow, And how should this Waterman ever know care, When he's married and never in want of a fare? |
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