She stands the bow upon her ship
Gazing far down the old canal
Her grip is strong she never slips
Nor has she ever run afoul
She spent the last of all her funds
Yes, every pound and every pence
So she might have a bit of fun
Away from highways, homes and fence
Now Pauline sleeps upon the waves
Inside her boat in old canals
And travels England’s waterways
Each day she docks in new locals
She’s happy now and travels about
If you should meet her come on board
There’s bound to be some ale or stout
And places yet to be explored
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem