And how shall I get me to Twickenham Town?”
She’d a rose in her bonnet, and oh! she look’d sweet
As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat,
With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry,
“And sure and you’re welcome to Twickenham Town.”
O-hoi ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho.
3.
O-hoi ye-ho, Ho, you’re too late for the ferry,
The briars in bud, the sun going down,
And he’s not rowing quick and he’s not rowing steady,