Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Music of Early America Part 2 (Revolutionary War C-F)

The Music of Early America Part 2

(Revolutionary War C-F)

"Charleston" 1780

("A Song About Charleston")


King Hancock sat in regal state,

And big with pride and vainly great,

Address'd his rebel crew,

These haughty Britons soon shall yield

The boasted honors of the field,

While our brave sons pursue.

Six thousand fighting men or more,

Protect the Carolina shore,
And Freedom will defend;
And stubborn Britons soon shall feel,
'Gainst Charleston, and hearts of steel,
How vainly they contend.

But ere he spake in dread array,
To rebel foes, ill-fated day,
The British boys appear;
Their mien with martial ardor fir'd,
And by their country's wrongs inspir'd,
Shook Lincoln's heart with fear.

See Clinton brave, serene, and great,
For mighty deeds rever'd by fate,
Direct the thund'ring fight,
While Mars, propitious God of war,
Looks down from his triumphal car,
With wonder and delight.

"Clinton," he cries, " the palm is thine,
'Midst heroes thou wert born to shine,
A great immortal name,
And Cornwallis' mighty deeds appear,
Conspicuous each revolving year,
The pledge of future fame."

Our tars, their share of glories won,
For they among the bravest shone,
Undaunted, firm and bold.
Whene'er engag'd, their ardor show'd
Hearts which with native valor glow'd,
Hearts of true British mould.

"Chester" 1778

by William Billings

("Let Tyrants Shake")

William Billings (1746-1800)

Chester: Overture for Band by William Schuman


Let tyrants shake their iron rods, 

And Slav'ry clank her galling chains. 

We fear them not, we trust in God. 

New England's God forever reigns. 

Howe and Burgoyne and Clinton, too, 

With Prescott and Cornwallis joined, 

Together plot our overthrow, 

In one infernal league combined. 

When God inspired us for the fight, 
Their ranks were broke, their lines were forced, 
Their ships were shattered in our sight, 
Or swiftly driven from our coast. 

The foe comes on with haughty stride, 
Our troops advance with martial noise; 
Their vet'rans flee before our youth, 
And gen'rals yield to beardless boys. 

What grateful off'ring shall we bring, 
What shall we render to the Lord? 
Loud hallelujahs let us sing, 
And praise his name on ev'ry chord!

"Columbia" 1777
by President Dwight of Yale College

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies! 

Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, While ages on ages they splendors unfold. 

Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; 

Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame. 

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire; Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; 

Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 

A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws, Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause; 

On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise, Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. 

Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star. 
New bards, and new sages, unrivalled shall soar! To fame unextinguished, when time is no more. 
To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind; 
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring. 

Nor less shall they fair ones to glory ascend, And genius and beauty in harmony blend; 
The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire. 
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, And virtue's bright image, instamped on the mind, 
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. 

Thy fleets to all regions they power shall display, The nations admire, and the oceans obey; 
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. 
As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow: 
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled, Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. 

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed, 
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired; The winds ceased to murmur; the thunders expired. 
Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along, And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: 
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."

"Come Let Us Drink About"

"Come Out Ye Continentalers"


Come out, ye continentalers!

We're going for to go

To fight the red-coat enemy,

Who're plaguy "cute," you know.

Now, shoulder whoop! — eyes right and dress

Front! — Davis wipe your nose —
Port whoop! — that's slick — now, carry whoop!
Mike Jones, turn out your toes.

Charge bagnet! — that your sort, my boys:
Now quick time! — march! — that's right,
Just so we'd poke the enemy,
If they were but in sight.

Halt! — shoulder whoop! — stop laughing, [unknown]
By plutons, wheel! — halt — dress!
Hold up your muzzles on the left;
No talking more or less

And Sneezer keep your canteen down,
We're going for to travel;
"Captain, I wants to halt a bit,
My shoes if full of gravel."

[unknown] — strike up music — for'ard march!
Now point your toes, Bob Rogers
[unknown] yonder are the red-coat men —
Let fly upon 'em, sogers.

"The Congress" 1776
("Nancy Dawson")

Ye Tories all rejoice and sing Success to George our gracious king; 
The faithful subjects tribute bring And execrate the Congress. 

These hardy knaves and stupid fools, Some apish and pragmatic mules, 

Some servile acquiescing tools, These, these compose the Congress. 

When Jove resolved to send a curse, And all the woes of life rehearse, 

Not plague, not famine, but much worse, He cursed us with a Congress. 

With freemen's rights they wanton play; At their command, we fast and pray; 

With worthless paper they us pay; A fine device of Congress. 

With poverty and dire distress, With standing armies us oppress; 
Whole troops to Pluto swiftly press, As victims to the Congress. 

Time-serving priests to zealots preach, Who king and parliament impeach; 
Seditious lessons to us teach, At the command of Congress. 

The world's amazed to see the pest, The tranquil land with wars infest; 
Britannia puts them to the test, And tries the strength of Congress. 

O goddess, hear our hearty prayers! Confound the villains by the ears; 
Disperse the plebians - try the peers, And execute the Congress. 

See, see, our hope begins to dawn; Bold Carleton scours the northern lawn; 
The sons of faction sigh forlorn; Dejected is the Congress. 

Clinton, Burgoyne and gallant Howe, Will soon reward our conduct true, 
And to each traitor give his due; Perdition waits the Congress. 

See noble Dunmore keeps his post; Maraudes and revages the coast; 
Despises Lee and all his host, That hair-brain tool of Congress. 

There's Washington and all his men, Where Howe had one, the goose had ten, 
Marched up the hill, and down again, And sent returns to Congress. 

Prepare, prepare, my friends prepare, For scenes of blood, the field of war; 
To royal standard we'll repair, And curse the haughty Congress. 

Huzza! Huzza! We thrice huzza! Return peace, harmony, and law! 
Restore such times as once we saw, And bid adieu to Congress.

"The Congress Minuet"
("King George The Third’s Minuet")

"Cornwallis Burgoyned" 1781
("Maggie Lawder")


When British troops first landed here, with Howe commander o'er them,

They thought they'd make us quake for fear, and carry all before them;

With thirty thousand men or more and she without assistance, 

America, must needs give o'er, and make no more resistance.

But Washington, her glorius son, of British hosts the terror,

Soon, by repeated overthrows, convinced them of their error:

Let Princeton and let Trenton tell, what gallant deeds he's done, sir,

And Monmouth's plains where hundreds fell, And thousands more have run, sir.

When he sat down before the town, his Lordship soon surrendered,

His martial pride he laid aside, and cased the British standard;

Gods! How this stroke will North provoke, And all his thoughts confuse, sir!

And how the Peers will hang their ears, When first they hear the news, sir.

Be peace, the glorious end of war, by this event effected;
And be the name of Washington, to lastest times respected;
Then let use toast America, and France in union with her,
And may Great Britain rue the day her hostile bands came hither

"The Cornwallis Country Dance"
("The Dance" 1781/"Yankee Doodle"/"Pop Goes the Weasel")
Portrait of Lord Cornwallis by Thomas Gainsborough


Cornwallis led a country dance,

The like was never seen, sir,

Much retrograde and much advance,

And all with General Greene, Sir.

They rambled up and rambled down,

Join'd hands, then off they run, sir,
Our General Greene to Charlestown,
The earl to Wilmington, sir.

Greene, in the South, then danc'd a set,
And got a mighty name, air,
Cornwallis jigg'd with young Fayette,
But suffer'd in his fame, air.

Then down he figur'd to the shore,
Most like a lordly dancer,
And on his courtly honor swore,
He would no more advance, air.

Quoth he, my guards are weary grown
With footing country dances,
They never at St. James's shone,
At capers, kicks or prances.

Though men so gallant ne'er were seen,
While sauntering on parade, air,
Or wriggling o'er the park's smooth green,
Or at a masquerade, air.

Yet are red heels and long-lac'd skirts,
For stumps and briars meet, sir?
Or stand they chance with hunting-shirts,
Or hardy veteran feet, sir?

Now hous'd in York he challeng'd all,
At minuet or all 'amande,
And lessons for a courtly hall,
His guards by day and night conn'd.

This challenge known, full soon there came,
A set who had the bon ton,
De Grasse and Rochambeau, whose fame
Fut brillant pour un long tems.

And Washington, Columbia's son,
Whom easy nature taught, sir,
That grace which can't by pains be won,
Or Plutus' gold be bought, sir.

Now hand in hand they circle round,
This ever-dancing peer, sir;
Their gentle movements, soon confound
The earl, as they draw near, sir.

His music soon forgets to play -
His feet can no more move, sir,
And all his bands now curse the day,
They jiggèd to our shore, sir.

Now Tories all, what can ye say?
Come - is not this a griper,
That while your hopes are danc'd away,
'Tis you must pay the piper.

"The Cow Chace" 1780

("The Cow Chase" or "Chevy Chase")

written by Major John Andre



To drive the kine one summer's morn, 

The tanner took his way;

The calf shall rue that is unborn, 

The jumbling of that day.

And Wayne descending steers shall know,

And tauntingly deride;

And call to mind in every low,

The tanning of his hide.

Yet Bergen cows still ruminate,
Unconscious in the stall,
What mighty means were used to get,
And loose them after all.

For many heroes bold and brave,
From Newbridge and Tappan,
And those that drink Passaic's wave,
And those who eat supaun;

And sons of distant Delaware,
And still remoter Shannon,
And Major Lee with horses rare,
And Proctor with his cannon.

All wond'rous proud in arms they came,
What hero could refuse
To tread the rugged path to fame,
Who had a pair of shoes !

At six, the host with sweating buff,
Arrived at Freedom's pole;
When Wayne, who thought he'd time enough,
Thus speechified the whole.

0 ye, who glory doth unite,
Who Freedom's cause espouse;
Whether the wing that's doom'd to fight,
Or that to drive the cows,

"Ere yet you tempt your further way,
Or into action come,
Hear, soldiers, what I have to say,
And take a pint of rum.

"Intemp'rate valor then will string
Each nervous arm the better;
So all the land shall I O sing,
And read the General's letter.

"Know that some paltry refugees,
Whom I've a mind to fight;
Are playing h__l amongst the trees
That grow on yonder height.

"Their fort and block-houses we'll level,
And deal a horrid slaughter;
We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil,
And ravish wife and daughter.

"I, under cover of attack,
Whilst you are all at blows,
From English neighb'rhood and Nyack,
Will drive away the cows;

"For well you know the latter is
The serious operation,
And fighting with the refugees
Is only demonstration."

His daring words, from all the crowd,
Such great applause did gain,
That every man declar'd aloud,
For serious work with Wayne.

Then from the cask of rum once more,
They took a heady gill;
When one and all, they loudly swore,
They'd fight upon the hill.

But here the muse hath not a strain
Befitting such great deeds;
Huzza! they cried, huzza! for Wayne,
And shouting _________ .

Near his meridian pomp, the sun
Had journey'd from the horizon;
When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on,
Of heroes drunk as pison.

The sounds confus'd of boasting oaths,
Re-echo'd through the wood;
Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's clothes,
And some to swim in blood.

At Irving's nod 'twas fine to see,
The left prepare to fight;
The while, the drovers, Wayne and Lee,
Drew off upon the right.

Which Irving 'twas, fame don't relate,
Nor can the muse assist her;
Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat,
Or he that gives a clyster

For greatly one was signaliz'd,
That fought on Chestnut Hill;
And Canada immortaliz'd
The vender of the pill,

Yet the attendance upon Proctor,
They both might have to boast of;
For there was business for the doctor,
And hats to be disposed of

Let none uncandidly infer,
That Stirling wanted spunk;
The self-made peer had sure been there,
But that the peer was drunk.

But turn we to the Hudson's banks,
Where stood the modest train;
With purpose firm, though slender ranks,
Nor car'd a pin for Wayne.

For them the unrelenting hand
Of rebel fury drove;
And tore from every genial band
Of friendship and of love.

And some within a dungeon's gloom,
By mock tribunals laid;
Had waited long a cruel doom
Impending o'er each head.

Here one bewails a brother's fate,
There one a sire demands,
Cut off, alas! before their date,
By ignominious hands.

And silver'd g randsires here appear'd
In deep distress serene,
Of reverent manners that declar'd
The better days they'd seen.

Oh, curs'd rebellion, these are thine,
Thine are these tales of woe;
Shall at thy dire insatiate shine,
Blood never cease to flow?

And now the foe began to lead
His forces to the attack;
Balls whistling unto balls succeed,
And make the block-house crack.

No shot could pass, if you will take
The General's word for true;
But 'tis a d---ble mistake,
For every shot went through.

The firmer as the rebels press'd,
The loyal heroes stand;
Virtue had nerv'd each honest breast,
And industry each hand.

"In valor's frenzy, Hamilton,
Rode like a soldier big,
And secretary Harrison,
With pen stuck in his wig."

"But lest their chieftain Washington,
Should mourn them in the mumps,
The fate of Withrington to shun,
They fought behind the stumps."

But ah, Thaddeus Posset, why
Should thy poor soul elope ?
And why should Titus Hooper die,
Ay, die - without a rope?

Apostate Murphy, thou to whom
Fair Shela ne'er was cruel,
In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom,
"Och ! would you die, my jewel?"

Thee, Nathan Pumpkin, I lament,
Of melancholy fate;
The gray goose stolen as he went,
In his heart's blood was wet.

Now, as the fight was further fought,
And balls began to thicken,
The fray assum'd, the generals thought,
The color of a lickin'.

Yet undismay'd the chiefs command,
And to redeem the day;
Cry, Soldiers, charge ! they hear, they stand,
They turn and run away.

Not all delights the bloody spear,
Or horrid din of battle;
There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear
A word about the cattle.

The chief whom we beheld of late,
Near Schralenburg haranguing,
At Yan Van Poop's unconscious sat
Of Irving's hearty banging.

Whilst valiant Lee, with courage wild,
Most bravely did oppose
The tears of woman and of child,
Who begg'd he'd leave the cows.

But Wayne, of sympathizing heart,
Requirèd a relief;
Not all the blessings could impart
Of battle or of beef.

For now a prey to female charms,
His soul took more delight in
A lovely hamadryad's arms,
Than cow-driving or fighting.

A nymph the refugees had drove
Far from her native tree,
Just happen'd to be on the move,
When up came Wayne and Lee.

She, in mad Anthony's fierce eye,
The hero saw portray'd,
And all in tears she took him by
- The bridle of his jade.

"Hear," said the nymph, "O, great commander!
No human lamentations;
The trees you see them cutting yonder,
Are all my near relations.

" And I, forlorn ! implore thine aid,
To free the sacred grove;
So shall thy prowess be repaid
With an immortal's love."

Now some, to prove she was a goddess,
Said this enchanting fair
Had late retirèd from the bodies
In all the pomp of war.

The drums and merry fifes had play'd
To honor her retreat;
And Cunningham himself convey'd
The lady through the street.

Great Wayne, by soft compassion sway'd,
To no inquiry stoops,
But takes the fair afflicted maid
Right into Yan Van Poop's.

So Roman Anthony, they say,
Disgrac'd the imperial banner,
And for a gypsy lost a day,
Like Anthony the tanner.

The hamadryad had but half
Receiv'd address from Wayne,
When drums and colors, cow and calf,
Came down the road amain.

And in a cloud of dust was seen
The sheep, the horse, the goat,
The gentle heifer, ass obscene,
The yearling and the shoat.

And pack-horses with fowls came by,
Befeather'd on each side;
Like Pegasus, the horse that I
And other poets ride.

Sublime upon his stirrups rose
The mighty Lee behind,
And drove the terror-smitten cows
Like chaff before the wind.

But sudden see the woods above,
Pour down another corps,
All helter-skelter in a drove,
Like that I sung before.

Irving and terror in the van,
Came. flying all abroad;
And cannon, colors, horse, and man,
Ran tumbling to the road.

Still as he fled, 'twas Irving's cry,
And his example too,
"Run on, my merry men - For why?
The shot will not go through." 

As when two kennels in the street,
Swell'd with a recent rain,
In gushing streams together meet,
And seek the neighboring drain;

So met these dung-born tribes in one,
As swift in their career,
And so to Newbridge they ran on
But all the cows got clear.

Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder,
Saw the returning train,
And mourn'd to Wayne the lack of plunder
For them to steal again.

For 'twas his right to steal the spoil, and
To share with each commander,
As he had done at Staten Island
With frost-bit Alexander.

In his dismay, the frantic priest,
Began to grow prophetic;
You'd swore, to see his laboring breast,
Held taken an emetic.

"I view a future day," said he,
"Brighter than this day dark is;
And you shall see what you shall see,
Ha! ha! my pretty Marquis!

"And he shall come to Paulus Hook
And great achievements think on;
And make a bow and take a look,
Like Satan over Lincoln.

"And every one around shall glory
To see the Frenchman caper;
And pretty Susan tell the story
In the next Chatham paper."

This solemn prophecy, of course,
Gave all much consolation,
Except to Wayne, who lost his horse,
Upon that great occasion.

His horse that carried all his prog,
His military speeches;
His corn-stock whiskey for his grog,
Blue stockings and brown breeches.

And now I've clos'd my epic strain,
I tremble as I show it,
Lest this same warrior-drover, Wayne,
Should ever catch the poet.

"The Cutty Wren"
English Folk Song Suite by Vaughan-Williams with the melody of the "Cutty Wren"

"Dance to the Daddy"
(Irish Tongue-Twister Song)

"Daughter, Will You Marry?"

"Descent on Middlesex" 1781

July the twenty-second day,
The precise hour I will not say,
In seventeen hundred and eighty-one,
A horrid action was begun.

While to the Lord they sing and pray,
The Tories who in ambush lay;
Beset the house with brazen face,
At Middlesex, it was the place.

A guard was plac'd the house before,
Likewise behind and at each door;
Then void of shame, those men of sin,
The sacred temple enter'd in.

The reverend Mather closed his book,
How did the congregation look!
Those demons plunder'd all they could,
Either in silver or in gold,

The silver buckles which we use,
Both at the knees and on the shoes,
These caitiffs took them in their rage,
Had no respect for sex or age.

As they were searching all around,
They several silver watches found;
While they who're plac'd as guards without,
Like raging devils rang'd about.

Run forty horses to the shore,
Not many either less or more;
With bridles, saddles, pillions on,
In a few minutes all was done.

The men from hence they took away,
Upon that awful sacred day,
Was forty-eight, besides two more
They chanc'd to find upon the shore.

On board the shipping they were sent,
Their money gone, and spirits spent,
And greatly fearing their sad end,
This wicked seizure did portend.

They hoisted sail, the Sound they cross'd,
And near Lloyd's Neck they anchor'd first;
'Twas here the Tories felt 'twas wrong,
To bring so many men along.

Then every man must tell his name,
A list they took, and kept the same;
When twenty-four of fifty men
Were order'd to go home again.

The twenty-six who staid behind,
Most cruelly they were confin'd;
On board the brig were order'd quick,
And then confin'd beneath the deck.

A dismal hole with filth besmear'd,
But 'twas no more than what we fear'd;
Sad the confinement, dark the night,
But then the devil thought 'twas right.

But to return whence I left off,
They at our misery made a scoff;
Like raving madmen tore about,
Swearing they'd take our vitals out.

They said no quarter they would give,
Nor let a cursèd rebel live;
But would their joints in pieces cut,
Then round the deck like turkeys strut.

July, the fourth and twentieth day,
We all marched off to Oyster Bay;
To increase our pains and make it worse,
They iron'd just six pair of us.

But as they wanted just one pair
An iron stirrup lying there,
Was taken and on anvil laid,
On which they with a hammer paid.

And as they beat it inch by inch,
It bruis' d their wrists, at which they flinch;
Those wretched caitiffs standing by,
Would laugh to hear the sufferers cry.

Although to call them not by name,
From Fairfield county many came
And were delighted with the rout,
To see the rebels kick'd about.

At night we travell'd in the rain,
All begg'd for shelter, but in vain;
Though almost naked to the skin,
A dismal pickle we were in.

Then to the half-way house we came,
The "Half-way House " 'tis called by name,
And there we found a soul's relief;
We almost miss'd our dreadful grief.

The people gen'rously behav'd,
Made a good fire, some brandy gave,
Of which we greatly stood in need,
As we were wet and cold indeed.

But ere the house we did attain,
We trembled so with cold and rain,
Our irons jingled - well they might -
We shiver'd so that stormy night.

In half an hour or thereabout,
The orders were, "Come, all turn out!
Ye rebel prisoners, shabby crew,
To loiter thus will never do."

'Twas now about the break of day,
When all were forc'd to march away;
With what they order'd we complied,
Though cold, nor yet one quarter dried.

We made a halt one half mile short
Of what is term'd Brucklyn's fort;
Where all were hurried through the street:
Some overtook us, some we met.

We now traversing the parade,
The awful figure which we made,
Caus'd laughter, mirth, and merriment,
And some would curse us as we went.

Their grandest fort was now hard by us,
They shew'd us that to terrify us;
They shew'd us all their bulwarks there,
To let be known how strong they were.

Just then the Tory drums did sound, 

And pipes rang out a warlike round;

Supposing we must thence conclude, 
That Britain ne'er could be subdu'd.

Up to the guard-house we were led, 

Where each receiv'd a crumb of bread;

Not quite one mouthful, I believe, 
For every man we did receive.

In boats, the ferry soon we pass'd, 
And at New York arriv'd at last;

As through the streets we pass'd along, 
Ten thousand curses round us rang.

But some would laugh, and some would sneer, 

And some would grin, and others leer;

A mixèd mob, a medley crew, 
I guess as e'er the devil knew.

To the Provost we then were haul'd, 
Though we of war were prisoners call'd;
Our irons now were order'd off, 
And we were left to sneeze and cough.

But oh! what company we found, 

With great surprise we look'd around:
I must conclude that in that place 
We found the worst of Adam's race.

Thieves, murd'rers, and pickpockets too, 
And every thing that's bad they'd do
One of our men found to his cost, 
Three pounds, York money, he had lost.

They pick'd his pocket quite before 

We had been there one single hour;
And while he lookèd o'er and o'er, 
The vagrants from him stole some more.

We soon found out, but thought it strange, 
We never were to be exchang'd
By a cartel, but for some men 
Whom they desir'd to have again.

A pack with whom they well agree, 

Who're call'd the loyal company,
Or " Loyalists Associated," 
As by themselves incorporated.

Our food was call'd two-thirds in weight 
Of what a soldier has to eat;
We had no blankets in our need, 
Till a kind friend did intercede.

Said he, "The prisoners suffer so, 

Tis quite unkind and cruel too;
I'm sure it makes my heart to bleed, 
So great their hardship and their need."

And well to us was the event, 
Fine blankets soon to us were sent;
Small the allowance, very small, 
But better far than none at all.

An oaken plank, it was our bed, 

An oaken pillow for the head,
And room as scanty as our meals, 
For we lay crowded head and heels.

In seven days or thereabout, 
One Jonas Weed was taken out,
And to his friends he was resign'd, 
But many still were kept behind.

Soon after this some were parol'd, 

Too, tedious wholly to be told;
And some from bondage were unstrung, 
Whose awful sufferings can't be sung.

The dread smallpox to some they gave, 
Nor tried at all their lives to save,
But rather sought their desolation, 
As they denied 'em 'noculation.

To the smallpox there did succeed, 

A putrid fever, bad indeed;
As they before were weak and spent, 
Soon from the stage of life they went.

For wood we greatly stood in need, 
For which we earnestly did plead;
But one tenth part of what we wanted 
Of wood, to us was never granted.

The boiling kettles which we had, 

Were wanting covers, good or bad;
The worst of rum that could be bought, 
For a great price, to us was brought.

For bread and milk, and sugar, too, 
We had to pay four times their due;
While cash and clothing which were sent, 
Those wretched creatures did prevent.

Some time it was in dark November 

But just the day I can't remember;
Full forty of us were confin'd 
In a small room both damp and blind,

Because there had been two or three, 
Who were not of our company,
Who did attempt the other day, 
The Tories said, to get away.

In eighteen days we were exchang'd, 

And through the town allowed to range;
Of twenty-five that were taken, 
But just nineteen reach'd home again.

Four days before December's gone, 
In seventeen hundred eighty-one,
I hail'd the place where months before, 
The Tories took me from the shore.

"The Deserter"

"Down Among the Dead Men"
"Down Among the Dead Men" arranged by Vaughan-Williams


Here's a health to the King, and a lasting peace

May faction end and wealth increase.

Come, let us drink it while we have breath,

For there's no drinking after death.

CHORUS: And he who would this toast deny,
Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,
Down, down, down, down;
Down among the dead men let him lie!

Let charming beauty's health go round,
With whom celestial joys are found.
And may confusion yet pursue
That selfish woman-hating crew.


In smiling Bacchus' joys I'll roll,
Deny no pleasures to my soul.
Let Bacchus' health round briskly move,
For Bacchus is the friend of love.


May love and wine their rights maintain,
And their united pleasures reign.
While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board,
We'll sing the joy that both afford.


"The Drum" 1780

"Dutch Song" 1779
("God Save the Thirteen States")

God save the Thirteen States
Long rule th' United States!
God save our States!
Make us victorious;
Happy and glorious;
No tyrants over us;
God save our States!

Oft did America
Foresee, with sad, dismay,
Her slav'ry near.
Oft did her grievance state,
But Britain, falsely great,
Urging her desp'rate fate,
Turn'd a deaf ear.

Now the proud British foe
We've made, by vict'ries, know,
Our sacred right.
Witness at Bunker's Hill,
Where godlike Warren fell,
Happy his blood to spill,
In gallant fight.

To our fam'd Washington,
Brave Stark at Bennington,
Glory is due.
Peace to Montgomery's shade,
Who as he fought and bled,
Drew honors round his head,
Num'rous as true.

Look to Sar'toga's plain,
Our captures on the main,
Moultrie's defense.
Our catalogue is long,
Of heroes yet unsung,
Who noble feats have done
For independence.

The melting mother's moans,
The aged father's groans,
Have steel'd our arms.
Ye British Whigs beware!
Your chains near formèd are,
In spite of Richmond's care
To sound alarms.

Come join your hands to ours;
No royal blocks, no tow'rs;
God save us all!
Thus in our country's cause,
And to support our laws;
Our swords shall never pause
At Freedom's call.

We'll fear no tyrant's nod,
Nor stern oppression's rod,
Till Time's no more.
Thus Liberty, when driv'n
From Europe's states, is giv'n
A safe retreat and hav'n,
On our free shore.

O, Lord! thy gifts in store,
We pray on Congress pour,
To guide our States.
May union bless our land,
While we, with heart and hand,
Our mutual rights defend,
God save our States!

God save the Thirteen States!
Long watch the prosp'rous fates
Over our States!
Make us victorious;
Happy and glorious;
No tyrants over us;
God save our States!

"Dying Redcoat"
Memorial to British soldiers who died in 1775,
at the famous Battle of Concord

'Twas on December's fifteenth day, 
When we set sail for America;

'Twas on that dark and dismal day, 
When we set sail for America.

'Twas on that dark and dismal time, 
When we set sail for the Northern clime,

Where drums to beat and trumpets sound, 
And unto Boston we were bound.

And when to Boston we did come, 
We thought by the aid of our British guns,

To drive the rebels from that place, 
To fill their hearts with sore disgrace.

But to our sorrow and surprise, 
We saw men like grasshoppers rise;

They fought like heroes much enraged, 
Which did affright old General Gage.

Like lions roaring of their prey, 
They feared no danger or dismay;
Bold British blood runs through their veins, 
And sill with courage they sustain.
We saw those bold Columbia's sons 
Spread death and slaughter from their guns:
Freedom or death! these heroes cry, 
They did not seem afraid to die.

We said to York, as you've been told, 
With the loss of many a Briton bold,
For to make those rebels own our King, 
And daily tribute to him bring.
They said it was a garden place, 
And that our armies could, with ease,
Pull down their town, lay waste their lands, 
In spite of all their boasted bands.

A garden place it was indeed, 
And in it grew many a bitter weed,
Which will pull down our highest hopes 
And sorely wound our British troops.
'Tis now September the seventeenth day, 
I wish I'd never come to America;
Full fifteen thousand has been slain, 
Bold British heroes every one.

Now I've received my mortal wound, 
I bid farewell to Old England's ground;
My wife and children will mourn for me, 
Whilst I lie cold in America.
Fight on America's noble sons, 
Fear not Britannia's thundering guns;
Maintain your cause from year to year, 
God's on your side, you need not fear.

"The Epilogue" 1778
("Derry Down")


Our farce is now finish'd, your sport's at an end,

But ere you depart, let the voice of a friend

By way of a chorus, the evening crown

With a song to the tune of a hey derry down,

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Old Shakespeare, a poet, who should not be spit on, 

Altho' he was born in the island called Britain,
Hath said that mankind are all players at best,
A truth we'll admit of, for sake of the jest.

On this puny stage we've strutted our hour,
And have acted our parts to the best of our power;
That the farce hath concluded not perfectly well,
Was surely the fault of the devil in hell.

This devil, you know, out of spleen to the church,
Will oftentimes leave his best friends in the lurch,
And turn them adrift in the midst of their joy;
'Tis a difficult matter to cheat the Old Boy.

Since this is the case, we must e'en make the best
Of a game that is lost; let us turn it to jest;
We'll smile, nay, we'll laugh, we'll carouse and we'll sing,
And cheerfully drink life and health to the king.

Let Washington now from his mountains descend,
Who knows but in George he may still find a friend;
A Briton, altho' he loves bottle and wench,
Is an honester follow than parle vous French.

Our great Independence we give to the wind,
And pray that Great Britain may once more be kind.
In this jovial song all hostility ends,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.

Boys fill me a bumper! now join in the chorus!
There is happiness still in the prospect before us,
In this sparkling glass, all hostility ends,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.

Good night! my good people, retire to your houses,
Fair ladies, I beg you, convince your dear spouses
That Britons and we are united in bliss
And ratify all with a conjugal kiss.

Once more, here's a health to the king and queen! 
Confusion to him, who in rancor and spleen,
Refuses to drink with an English friend,
Immutable amity to the world's end.

"The Etiquette" 1779


What though America doth pour 
Her millions to Britannia's store,

Quoth Grenville, that won't do - for yet, 
Taxation is the etiquette.

The tea destroy'd, the offer made 
That all the loss should be repaid

North asks not justice, nor the debt, 
But he must have the etiquette.

He'd stop their port - annul their laws - 
"Hear us," cried Franklin, "for our cause!"

To hear th' accus'd, the senate met, 
Decreed 'twas not the etiquette.

At Bunker's Hill the cause was tried 
The earth with British blood was dyed;
Our army, though 'twas soundly beat, 
We hear, bore off the etiquette.

The bond dissolv'd, the people rose, 
Their rulers from themselves they chose
Their Congress then at naught was set - 
Its name was not the etiquette.

Though 'twere to stop the tide of blood, 
Their titles must not be allow'd,
(Not to the chiefs of armies met,) 
One Arnold was the etiquette.

The Yankees at Long Island found 
That they were nearly run aground;
Howe let them 'scape when so beset - 
He will explain the etiquette.

His aide-de-camps, to Britain boast 
Of battles - Yankee never lost;
But they are won in the Gazette - 
That saves the nation's etiquette.

Clinton his injur'd honor saw, 
Swore he'd be tried by martial law,
And kick Germaine whene'er they met - 
A ribbon sav'd that etiquette.

Though records speak Germaine's disgrace, 
To quote them to him to his face,
(The Commons now are - si honnète,) 
They voted not the etiquette.

Of Saratoga's dreadful plain- 
An army ruin'd; why complain?
To pile their arms as they were let, 
Sure they came off with etiquette!

Cries Burgoyne, "They may be reliev'd, 
That army still may be retriev'd,
To see the king if I be let;" 
"No, sir! 'tis not the etiquette."

God save the king ! and should he choose 
His people's confidence to lose,
What matters it ? they'll not forget 
To serve him still - through etiquette.

"A Fable" 1778


Rejoice, Americans, rejoice! 

Praise ye the Lord with heart and voice!
The treaty's signed with faithful France, 
And now, like Frenchmen, sing and dance!

But when your joy gives way to reason, 

And friendly hints are not deem'd treason,
Let me, as well as I am able, 
Present your Congress with a fable.

Tired out with happiness, the frogs 
Sedition croak'd through all their bogs;
And thus to Jove the restless race, 
Made out their melancholy case.

"Fam'd, as we are, for faith and prayer, 
We merit sure peculiar care;
But can we think great good was meant us, 
When logs for Governors were sent us?

"Which numbers crush'd they fell upon, 
And caus'd great fear, - till one by one,
As courage came, we boldly fac'd 'em, 
Then leap'd upon 'em, and disgrac'd 'em!

"Great Jove," they croak'd, "no longer fool us, 
None but ourselves are fit to rule us;
We are too large, too free a nation 
To be encumber'd with taxation!

"We pray for peace, but wish confusion, 
Then right or wrong, a - revolution!
Our hearts can never bend t' obey; 
Therefore no king - and more we'll pray."

Jove smiled, and to their fate resign'd 
The restless, thankless, rebel kind;
Left to themselves, they went to work, 
First signed a treaty with king Stork.

He swore that they, with his alliance, 
To all the world might bid defiance;
Of lawful rule there was an end on't, 
And frogs were henceforth - independent.

At which the croakers, one and all, 
Proclaim'd a feast, and festival!
But joy to-day brings grief to-morrow; 
Their feasting o'er, now enter sorrow I

The Stork grew hungry, long'd for fish; 
The monarch could not have his wish;
In rage he to the marshes flies, 
And makes a meal of his allies.

Then grew so fond of well-fed frogs, 
He made a larder of the bogs !
Say, Yankees, don't you feel compunction, 
At your unnatural, rash conjunction?

Can love for you in him take root, 
Who's Catholic, and absolute?
I'll tell these croakers how he'll treat 'em; 
Frenchmen, like storks, love frogs - to eat 'em.

"The Farce"

"Fare Thee Well, You Sweethearts"

"Fathom the Bowl"


Come all you bold heroes, attend to my song,

I'll speak in the praise of good brandy and rum;

When the cold crystal fountain does over us roll,

Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

From France we get brandy, from Jamaica run;

Fine oranges and lemons from Portugal come;

Good strong beer and cider in England is sold -

Give me the punch ladle I'll fathom the bowl.

My wife she comes in and she sits at her ease,

She scolds and she brawls and does as she please;

She may scold and she may brawl till she's as back as the coal -

Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

My father he lies in the depths of the sea,
Cold rocks for his pillow, what matters to he!
When the cold crystal fountain does over us roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

Toast to follow the song

Here's to the large bee that flies so high!
The small bee gathers the honey;
The poor man he does all the work,
And the rich man pockets the money.

"The Female Patriots"

"Fill Every Glass"

from The Beggar's Opera 1726

"Fish and Tea" 1775
("A New Song to an Old Tune")

WHAT a court, hath old England, of folly and sin,
Spite of Chatham and Camden, Barre, Burke, Wilkes and Glynn!
Not content with the game act, they tax fish and sea,
And America drench with hot water and tea.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Lord Sandwich, he swears they are terrible cowards, 

Who can't be made brave by the blood of the Howards; 
And to prove there is truth in America's fears,
He conjures Sir Peter's ghost 'fore the peers.

Now, indeed, if these poor people's nerves are so weak,
How cruel it is their destruction to seek !
Dr. Johnson's a proof, in the highest degree,
His soul and his system were changèd by tea.

But if the wise council of England doth think,
They may be enslaved by the power of drink,
They're right to enforce it; but then, do you see ?
The Colonies, too, may refuse and be free.

There's no knowing where this oppression will stop; 

Some say - there's no cure but a capital chop;
And that I believe's each American's wish,
Since you've drench'd them with tea, and depriv'd 'em of fish.

The birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
By the gods, for poor Dan Adam's use were made free, 

Till a man with more power, than old Moses would wish, 
Said, "Ye wretches, ye shan't touch a fowl or a fish!"

Three Generals' these mandates have borne 'cross the sea,
To deprive 'em of fish and to make 'em drink tea;
In turn, sure, these freemen will boldly agree,
To give 'em a dance upon Liberty Tree.

Then freedom's the word, both at home and abroad, 

And- every scabbard that hides a good sword!
Our forefathers gave us this freedom in hand,
And we'll die in defense of the rights of the land.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.

"A Fragment" 1783


When Guildford good our pilot stood, 
And did our helm thraw, man,

At night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man; 

Then up they gat the maskin'-pat,

And in the sea did jaw, man; 
And did nae less, in full Congress, 

Than quite refuse our law, man.

Then through the lakes Montgomery takes, 
I wat he was na slaw, man;

Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn, 
And Carleton did ca', man;

But yet, what-reck, he, at Quebec, 
Montgomery-like did fa', man,

Wi' sword in hand, before his band, 
Amang his en'mies a', man.

Poor Tammy Gage, within a cage, 
Was kept at Boston ha, man;
Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe 
For Philadelphia, man;
Wi' sword and gun he thought a sin 
Guid Christian blood to draw, man:
But at New York, wi' knife and fork, 
Sir-loin he hackèd sma', man.

Burgoyne gaed up, like spur and whip, 
Till Fraser brave did fa', man;
Then lost his way, ae misty day, 
In Saratoga shaw, man.
Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought, 
And did the buckskins claw, man;
But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save, 
He hung it to the wa', man.

Then Montague, and Guildford too, 
Began to fear a fa', man:
And Sackville dour, wha stood the stoure, 
The German Chief to thraw, man;
For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk, 
Nae mercy had at a', man;
And Charlie Fox threw by the box, 
And lows'd his tinkler jaw, man.

Then Rockingham took up the game, 
Till death did on him ca', man;
When Shelburne meek held up his cheek, 
Conform to gospel law, man;
Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise, 
They did his measures thraw, man,
For North and Fox united stocks, 
And bore him to the wa', man.

Then clubs and hearts were Charlie's cartes, 
He swept the stakes awa', man,
Till the diamond's ace, of Indian's race, 
Led him a sair faux pas, man;
The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads, 
On Chatham's boy did ca', man;
And Scotland drew her pipe and blew, 
'Up, Willie, waur them a', man I

Behind the throne then Grenville's gone, 
A secret word or twa, man;
While slee Dundas aroused the class, 
Be-north the Roman wa', man;
And Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith, 
(Inspirèd Bardies saw, man)
Wi' kindling eyes cried, ' Willie, rise! 
Would I hae fear'd them a, man?'

But, word and blow, North, Fox and Co., 
Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man,
Till Southron raise, and coost their clase 
Behind him in a raw, man;
And Caledon threw by the drone, 
And did her whittle draw, man;
And swoor fu' rude, through dirt and blood, 
To make it guid in law, man.

"Free America"
by Joseph Warren
("Free Americay"or "British Grenadiers")
Joseph Warren
Death of Joseph Warren at Bunker Hill by John Trumbull

That seat of science Athens, And earth's proud mistress, Rome,
Where now are all their glories We scarce can find a tomb.
Then guard your rights, Americans, Nor stoop to lawless sway,
Oppose, oppose, oppose, oppose For North America.

Proud Albion bow'd to Caesar, And numerous lords before,
To Picts, to Danes, to Normans, And many masters more;
But we can boast Americans Have never fall'n a prey,
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza For Free America.

We led fair Freedom hither, And lo, the desert smiled,
A paradise of pleasure New opened in the wild;
Your harvest, bold Americans, No power shall snatch away,
Preserve, preserve, preserve your rights In Free America.

Torn from a world of tyrants Beneath this western sky
We formed a new dominion, A land of liberty;
The world shall own we're freemen here, And such will ever be,
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza For love and liberty.

God bless this maiden climate, And through her vast domain
May hosts of heroes cluster That scorn to wear a chain.
And blast the venal sycophants Who dare our rights betray;
Assert yourselves, yourselves, yourselves For brave America,

Lift up your hearts, my heroes, And swear with proud disdain,
The wretch that would ensnare you Shall spread his net in vain;
Should Europe empty all her force, We'd meet them in array,
And shout huzza, huzza, huzza For brave America.

The land where freedom reigns shall still Be masters of the main,
In giving laws and freedom To subject France and Spain;
And all the isles o'er ocean spread Shall tremble and obey,
The prince who rules by Freedom's laws In North America.

"From Boston"1776

("Military Song")


Sons of valor, taste the glories 
Of celestial liberty,

Sing a triumph o'er the tories, 
Let the pulse of joy beat high.

Heaven hath this day foil'd the many 

Fallacies of George the King;

Let the echo reach Britan'y, 
Bid her mountain summits ring.

See your navy swell the bosom, 
Of the late enragèd sea;

Where'er they go, we shall oppose them, 
Sons of valor must be free.

Should they touch at fair Rhode Island, 

There to combat with the brave,

Driven from each dale and highland, 
They shall plough the purple wave.

Should they thence to fair Virginia, 
Bend a squadron to Dunmore,
Still with fear and ignominy, 
They shall quit the hostile shore.

To Carolina or to Georg'y, 
Should they next advance their fame,
This land of heroes shall disgorge the 
Sons of tyranny and shame.

Let them rove to climes far distant, 
Situate under Arctic skies,
Call on Hessian troops assistant, 
And the savages to rise.

Boast of wild brigades from Russia, 
To fix down the galling chain,
Canada and Nova Scotia, 
Shall disgorge these hordes again.

In New York state rejoin'd by Clinton, 
Should their standards mock the air,
Many a surgeon shall put lint on 
Wounds of death receivèd there.

War, fierce war, shall break their forces, 
Nerves of tory men shall fail,
Seeing Howe with alter'd courses, 
Bending to the western gale.

Thus from every bay of ocean, 
Flying back with sails unfurl'd,
Tossed with ever-troubled motion, 
They shall quit this smiling world.

Like Satan banishèd from heaven, 
Never see the smiling shore;
From this land, so happy, driven, 
Never stain its bosom more.