What rower plies a reckless oar
With mist on flood and strand?
That Oarsman toils forevermore
And ne'er shall reach the land.

* * * * *

Roystering, rollicking Ram van Dam,
Fond of a frolic and fond of a dram,
Fonder--yea, fonder, proclaims renown,--
Of Tryntje Bogardus of Tarrytown,
Leaves Spuyten Duyvil to roar his song!
Pull! For the current is sly and strong;
Nestles the robin and flies the bat.
Ho! for the frolic at Kakiat!

Merry, the sport at the quilting bee
Held at the farm on the Tappan Zee!
Jovial labor with quips and flings,
Dances with wonderful pigeon wings,
Twitter of maidens and clack of dames,
Honest flirtations and rousing games;
Platters of savory beef and brawn,
Buckets of treacle and good suppawn,
Oceans of cider, and beer in lakes,
Mountains of crullers and honey-cakes--
Such entertainment could never pall!
Rambout Van Dam took his fill of all;
Laughed with the wittiest, worked with a zest,