The sprightly “Ariel” seemed to fly;
Not an arm, nor a back, nor a nerve did she slack;
Though the foemen laugh’d, and thought it was stuff,
Knowing not the handful of lads how tough
Were the dauntless “Ariel” crew, Sir.
Eight strong-arm’d men on their oars did bend,
The stoutest Oxford Town could send;
We eight bold youngsters did contend,
The plucky “Ariel” crew, Sir.
Our cockswain hail’d the “Isis,” “Ho,”