THE CREW.

O’ er the moving waters of the Horicon

Comes a gentle breeze,

Throwing kisses to its ripples,

Flirting with the trees,

Blowing whiffs of scented clover,

Whiffs of sweetest peas.

On the moving waters of the Horicon

Comes a red canoe,

Bearing Cupid, with an arrow

Pointed at the crew,

Sharing youthful dreams together,

In that red canoe!