The limber young lass in a white Tam o' Shanter,
The pouting young puss in a sailor-boy hat!
O,
And Streatley and Goring are worthy of rhyme:
The sunshine is hot and the breezes are still,
The River runs swift under Basildon Hill!
To lounge in a skiff is delightful to me,
I'm feeling as lazy as lazy can be;
I don't care to sail and I don't care to row—
Since I'm lucky enough to be taken in tow!