"A fair sample this of your fine Irish ladies!
In a Party like yours won't she kick up a squall?"
Thus oft they'd be chaffing, and shouting and jeering,
But 'twas all one to Willy; he stuck to his steering;
For hissing or hooting he little did care,
He handled his pole, and looked after his fare.
And ah! just to think now how strangely things happen!
He poled along, caring for no one at all;
By a crush in the lock, foes his fare meant alarming,
And hoped in deep water she fainting might fall.