We were very tired, we were very merry– We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable– But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry– We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry; And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear, From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere; And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry, We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. We hailed, “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-covered head, And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read; And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and pears, And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

Note: I am very tired but not so merry (as I was this past Saturday) but I thought I should post this poem before it slips from my mind. I found this poem after I chanced upon a phrase from it - "...all night on the ferry" - as I was getting off the Staten Island Ferry (swinging hands with N), written in large letters on the inside of the Whitehall Terminal, located at the southern tip of Manhattan, after a pleasurable (and free - yes, I am, um, chea-intelligent) sunset cruise, back and forth, across the gold speckled Upper New York Bay.