Upon the banks of Nanticoke
Lived pretty Rosa Gerry,
She rowed the long sweep's forward stroke
Across her father's ferry,
And many there mock errands put
To see lithe Rosa Gerry
Throw all her strength above her foot
To bend the oar, and ferry.

O, what a lissome vine her spine!
The spray set tight her bustle;
But like the springing sapling pine
The graces of her muscle!
It was her skipper father's task
Midships to steer and mind her,
But when her feet he did not mask,
What bliss to be behind her!

I took her on my horse one day
When we had crossed the ferry;
To Laurel town we rode our way, —
Before me Rosa Gerry.
" Sweetheart, " said I, " go back no more
To push that stubborn wherry!
Let me bend to thee as my oar
To row thee o'er Life's ferry! "

So, now I'm Rosa Gerry's stroke
And she and me may royster!
I sail her down the Nanticoke
To fish and crab and oyster;
Down my forecastle list her tweet
As on the old-time ferry!
If she grows old I'll see her feet
And know she's Rosa Gerry!