Explore "The Babe, B. A" by E.F. Benson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Row, brothers, row, The stream runs slow, _We don't know how to row_ _And the oars stick so._ LIGHT-BLUE LYRICS.
The Babe was no waterman, and he never pretended to be, but this did not prevent his getting up a quiet picnic on the upper river one delightful afternoon towards the end of May. There were only to be four of them, not counting Mr. Sykes -- though it was impossible not to count Mr. Sykes, the others being Reggie, Ealing, and Jack Marsden.