’Twas clean’d out so nice, and so painted withal;
He was always first oars when the fine city ladies
In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall;
And oftentimes would they be gigling and leering;
But ’twas all one to Tom their gibing and jeering;
For loving or liking he little did care,
For this waterman ne’er was in want of a fare.
And yet, but to see how strange things happen,
As he row’d along, thinking of nothing at all,
He was ply’d by a damsel so lovely and charming,