Adown the crowded river,
For tide may ebb and tide may flow,
But I steam on for ever!
I drown with my shrill whistle’s scream
The blackbird’s piping trebles;
I churn up mud and foul the stream
Above the tide-worn pebbles.
With many a wave the punts I fret,
My wash engulphs them neatly;
I many a dainty lady wet,