THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAIDS
And have you not read of eight jolly young watermaids,
Lately at Cookham accustomed to ply
And feather their oars with a deal of dexterity,
Pleasing the critical masculine eye?
They swing so truly and pull so steadily,
Multitudes flock to the river-side readily;—
It's not the eighth wonder that all the world's there,
But this watermaid eight, ne'er in want of a stare.
What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands,
"Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend,
But are these first thoughts with the dashing young women
Who don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End?
Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"—
Complete ruination to rowing and steering;—
"All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care,
And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair.
