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!