O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho! "I'm for the ferry!"
(The moon rides on high, and the snow's coming down,)
"Sure it's late that it is, but I care not a penny;
I'll brave the rough river and winter's grim frown."
He'd his hands in his pockets, and oh! he looked brave
As the toughtest old tar who e'er ventured the wave.
With his cheeks like a rose, and his lips like a cherry,
"Ah! sure, and you're welcome! Your presence all crave!"
O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho!
O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho! One flits slow from the ferry,