Then see her dancing on the tide, and you’ll
Swear she’s the prettiest little craft that goes
Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool.
Bare-footed, push her from the bank afloat,
(The soft warm mud comes squelching through your toes!)
Scramble aboard: then find an antidote
For every care a jaded spirit knows:
While round the boat the broken water crows
With laughter, casting pretty ridicule
On human life and all its little woes,