“Ahoy! and O-ho! and it ’s who ’s for the ferry?”
(The briar ’s in bud and the sun going down)
“And I ’ll row ye so quick and I ’ll row ye so steady,
And ’t is but a penny to Twickenham Town.”
The ferryman’s slim and the ferryman’s young,
With just a soft tang in the turn of his tongue;
And he ’s fresh as a pippin and brown as a berry,
And ’t is but a penny to Twickenham Town.
“Ahoy! and O-ho! and it ’s I ’m for the ferry,”
(The briar ’s in bud and the sun going down)
“And it ’s late as it is and I have n’t a penny—
Oh! how can I get me to Twickenham Town?”
She ’d a rose in her bonnet, and oh! she look’d sweet
As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat,
With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry—
“It ’s sure but you ’re welcome to Twickenham Town,”
“Ahoy! and O-ho!”—You ’re too late for the ferry,
(The briar ’s in bud and the sun has gone down)
And he ’s not rowing quick and he ’s not rowing steady;
It seems quite a journey to Twickenham Town.
“Ahoy! and O-ho!” you may call as you will;
The young moon is rising o’er Petersham Hill;
And, with Love like a rose in the stern of the wherry,
There ’s danger in crossing to Twickenham Town.