Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Music of Early America Part 3 (Revolutionary War G-I)

The Music of Early America Part 3

(Revolutionary War G-I)

"Gage's Proclamation" 1774
Thomas Gage by John Singleton Copley

America! thou fractious nation,
Attend thy master's proclamation!
Tremble! for know, I, Thomas Gage, 
Determin'd came the war to wage.

With the united powers sent forth,
Of Bute, of Mansfield, and of North;
To scourge your insolence, my choice,
While England mourns and Scots rejoice!

Bostonia first shall feel my power,
And gasping midst the dreadful shower
Of ministerial rage, shall cry,
Oh, save me, Bute ! I yield ! and die.

Then shall my thundering cannons rattle,
My hardy veterans march to battle,
Against Virginia's hostile land,
To humble that rebellious band. 

At my approach her trembling swains,
Shall quit well-cultivated plains,
To seek the inhospitable wood;
Or try, like swine of old, the flood.

Rejoice! ye happy Scots rejoice!
Your voice lift up, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness on each tongue,
The mighty praise of Bute be sung.

The praise of Mansfield, and of North,
Let next your hymns of joy set forth,
Nor shall the rapturous strain assuage,
Till sung's your own proclaiming Gage.

Whistle ye pipes! ye drones drone on.
Ye bellows blow! Virginia's won!
Your Gage has won Virginia's shore,
And Scotia's sons shall mourn no more.

Hail Middlesex! oh happy county! 
Thou too shalt share thy master's bounty,
Thy sons obedient, naught shalt fear,
Thy wives and widows drop no tear.

Thrice happy people, ne'er shall feel
The force of unrelenting steel;
What brute would give the ox a stroke
Who bends his neck to meet the yoke?

To Murray bend the humble knee; 
He shall protect you under me;
His generous pen shall not be mute,
But sound your praise thro' Fox to Bute.

By Scotchmen lov'd, by Scotchmen taught,
By all your country Scotchmen thought;
Fear Bute, fear Mansfield, North and me,
And be as blest as slaves can be.

"The Gamester" 1778
("A New Song" or "A Late Worthy Old Lion")

West Of the old Atlantic, firm Liberty stands!

Hov'ring Fame just alighted, supported by bands

Of natives free born, who loud echoing sing,
"We'll support our just rights 'gainst tyrannic kings!"

Caral-laddy - caral-laddy, etc.

George the Third she disowns and his proud lordly cheats,

His murdering legions and half-famish'd fleets;

To the Jerseys sneak'd off, with fear quite dismay'd,

Although they much boasted, that fighting's their trade.

Our just rights to assert, hath the Congress oft tried, 

Whose wisdom and strength our opponents deride, 

And still madly in rage their weak thunders are hurl'd,

To bring us on our knees and to bully the world.

Too haughty to yield, yet too weak to withstand,

They skulk to their ships and leave us the firm land;

In dread lest they share what Jack Burgoyne did feel, 

And the game be quite lost, as poor Jack had lost deal.

Jack, thinking of cribbage, all fours, or of put,
With a dexterous hand, he did shuffle and cut,
And when likely to lose - like a sharper they say -
Did attempt to renege - I mean, run away.

But watch'd so closely, he could not play booty,
Yet to cheat he fain would, for George - 'twas his duty;
A great bet depending on that single game;
Dominion and honor - destruction and shame.

Examin'd with care his most critical hand,
At a loss, if better to beg or to stand,
His tricks reckon'd up; for all sharpers can jangle;
Then kick'd up a dust, for his favorite wrangle.

'Twas diamond cut diamond, spades were of no use, 
But to dig up the way for surrender and truce;
For he dreaded the hand that dealt out such thumps;
As the hearts were run out, and clubs were then trumps.

Thus he met with the rubbers, as the game it turn'd out, 
Poor Jack, although beat, made a damnable rout, 
Complain'd he was cheated, and pompously talks;
Quit the game with a curse, while he rubb'd out the chalks.

But see a cloud burst, and a seraph appears,
Loud trumpeting peace, while in blood to their ears,
With bulls and with pardons for us on submission;
To bull us, and gull us, by their sham commission.

The haughty great George then to peace is now prone;
A bully when matched soon can alter his tone;
'Tis the act of a Briton to bluster and threaten;
Hangs his tail like a spaniel, when handsomely beaten.

Charge your glasses lip high, to brave Washington sing,
To the union so glorious the whole world shall ring;
May their councils in wisdom and valor unite,
And the men 2 ne'er be wrong, who yet so far are right.

The great Doctor Franklin the next glass must claim,
Whose electrical rod strikes terror and shame;
Like Moses, who caused Pharaoh's heart-strings to grumble,
Shock'd George on his throne, his magicians made humble.

To Gates and to Arnold, with bumpers we'll join,
And to all our brave troops who took gambling Burgoyne.
May their luck still increase, as they've turn'd up one Jack,
To cut and turn up all the knaves in the pack.

"General Howe's Letter" 1777
("Derry Down")
General William Howe

1. As to kidnap the Congress has long been my aim,
I lately resolved to accomplish the same;
And that none in the glory might want his due share,
All the troops were to Brunswick desired to repair,
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

2. There I met them in person and took the command,
When I instantly told them the job upon hand;
I did not detain them with long-winded stuff,
But made a short speech and each soldier looked bluff.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

3. With this omen elated, towards Quibbletown,
I led them concluding the day was our own;
For, till we went thither, the coast was quite clear,
But Putnam and Washington, damn them, were there!
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

4. I own I was staggered to see with what skill,
The rogues were intrenched on the brow of the hill;
With a view to dismay them, I showed my whole force,
But they kept their position, and cared not a curse.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

5. There were then but two ways-- to retreat or attack,
And to me it seemed wisest by far to go back;
For I thought if I rashly got into a fray,
There might both be the Devil and Piper to pay.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

6. Then, to lose no more time by parading in vain,
I determined elsewhere to transfer the campaign;
So just as we went, we returned to this place,
With no other difference -- than mending our pace.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

7. Where next we proceed is not yet very clear,
But when we get there, be assured you shall hear;
I’ll settle that point when I meet with my brother,
Meanwhile, we’re embarking for some place or other.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

8. Having briefly, my lord, told you how the land lies,
I hope there’s enough for a word to the wise;
‘Tis a good horse, they say, that never will stumble,
But fighting or flying, I’m your very humble.
Derry down, down, down Derry down.

"General Scott's March" 1771
("The Lady's Play Thing")
Brigadier General John Sullivan 
Hark, the loud drums, hark, the shrill trumpet-call to arms, 
Come, Americans come, prepare for war's alarms, 
Whilst in array we stand, 
What soldier dare to land, 

Sure in the attempt to meet his doom, 

A leaden death, or a watery tomb;

We, Americans, so brave, o'er the land or the waves, 
All invaders defy, we'll repulse them or die, We scorn to live as slaves.

Recall the days, wherein our fathers bravely fought, 
And crown'd with praise, they patriot glory sought, 
Bid their high deeds inspire, 
Bid Magna Charta fire, 

Greatly they labor'd for our good 
All sorts of tyranny withstood, 
All these we despise, on our courage rely, 
For what American so base would his country disgrace And from his colors fly.

No party spite, no more our measures will oppose, 
For all unite against our insulting foes, 
All then in chorus sing, 
And let your voices ring,

Fill unto Sullivan the flowing bowl,

Hand it to each gallant soul, 

Raise patriot flame, his glory proclaim 

Who his sword boldly draws in his country's cause, And wins an endless name.
("Brighton Camp")
"The Girl I Left Behind Me" by Charles Green 1880
The Girl I Left Behind Me (from the Irish Suite) by Leroy Anderson

The Glorious Seventy-Four 1775

("Hearts of Oak")


Come, come my brave boys, from my song you shall hear 

That we'll crown Seventy-four, a most glorious year; 

We'll convince Bute and Mansfield, and North, tho' they rave, 

Britons still like themselves, spurn the chains of a slave. 

CHORUS: Hearts of oak were our sires, 

Hearts of oak are their sons, 

Like them we are ready, as firm and as steady, 

To fight for our freedom with swords and with guns. 

Foolish elves to conjecture by crossing of mains, 

That the true blood of freemen would change in our veins, 

Let us scorch, let us freeze, from the line to the pole, 

Britain's sons still retain all their freedom of soul. 

See-our rights to invade, Britain's dastardly foes, 

Sending Hysons and Congoes, did vainly suppose, 

That poor shallow pates, like themselves we were grown, 

And our hearts were as servile and base as their own. 

Their tea still is driven away from our shores, 
Or presented to Neptune or rats in our stores:­
But to awe, to divide, till we crouch to their sway, 
On brave Boston, their vengeance...!.-they fiercely display

Now unask'd, we unite, we agree to a man, 
See our stores flow to Boston, from rear and from van. 
Hark the shout how it flies; freedom's voice, how it sounds! 
From each country, each clime; hark, the echo rebounds! 

Across the Atlantic-so thund'ring the roar, 
It has roused Britain's genius, who doz'd on his shore­ 
Who has injured my sons, my brave boys o'er the mam; 
Whose spirits to vigor 't renews me again! 

With sons whom I foster'd and cherish'd of yore, 
Fair Freedom shall flourish till time is no more; 
No tyrant shall rule them-'tis Heaven's decree 
They shall never be slaves, while they dare to be free: 


"Gloucestershire Wassail"

"God Save The King"

God save our gracious King!

Long live our noble King! 

God save the King! 

Send her victorious, 
Happy and glorious, 

Long to reign over us. 

God save the King! 

O Lord our God arise.

Scatter her enemies,

And make them fall.

Confound their politics,

Frustrate their knavish tricks.

On thee our hopes we fix.

God save us all!

The choicest gifts in store.

On her be pleased to pour,

Long may she reign!

May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause,
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the King!

"God Save the 13 States"

God save the Thirteen States! 

Long rule the United States! 

God save our States! 

Make us victorious, 

Happy and glorious; 

No tyrants over us; 

God save our States! 

To our famed 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. 

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, 
Turned a deaf ear. 

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!

"Good Old Colony Days"

("In Good Old Colony Times" or "Three Jolly Rogues")


In good old colony days 

When we lived under the King,

Three roguish chaps fell into mishaps 

Because they could not sing 

Because they could not sing,

Because they could not sing, 

Three roguish chaps fell into mishaps 

Because they could not sing. 

The first he was a miller, 

The second he was a weaver, 

And the third he was a little tailor, 

Three jolly rogues together. 

The miller he stole corn. 

The weaver he stole yarn. 

And the little tailor he stole broadcloth 

To keep the three rogues warm. 

The miller got drowned in his dam, 

And the weaver got hung in his yam, 
And the sheriff clapped paws on the little tailor 
With the broadcloth under his arm

"Goody Bull" 

("Derry Down")

"Granny Wales"

"As Granny arose in the morning so soon, 

She put on her petticoat, apron and gown,

'I've very bad news that last night came to me, 

They're wronging my children far over the sea.'

Then Granny Wales mounted her hosse in a rage, 

And straight up to London it was her next stage.

As she was a-riding up through London street, 

Twas there my Lord Grenville and Bute she did meet.

She said, 'Noble gentlemen, tell me the facts, 

Are you the ringleaders of this new tax?

To enslave my sons that's in a foreign land, 

You are the two villains, as I understand.'

'Oh no, my dear Granny, you're wrongly informed, 
To enslave America we don't intend.
But this land is our King's we do solemnly say, 
And we will make the laws for your sons to obey.'

'It's a lie, it's a lie!' said Old Granny in haste, 
For it's very well known form the east to the west.
That they ventured their lives at the price of their blood, 
But with taxes you cover their land like a flood.'"

"The Green Mountaineer"

("Ballad of the Green Mountain Boys")

"Hail Columbia"

by Francis Hopkinson

Francis Hopkinson by the artist Thomas Sully

Hail Columbia: Our first National Anthem 
now used to honor the Vice-President

Hail Columbia, happy land! 

Hail, ye heroes, heav'n-born band, 

Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, 

Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, 

And when the storm of war was gone 

Enjoy'd the peace your valor won. 

Let independence be our boast, 

Ever mindful what it cost; 

Ever grateful for the prize, 

Let its altar reach the skies. 

Chorus: Firm, united let us be, 

Rallying round our liberty, 

As a band of brothers joined, 

Peace and safety we shall find. 

Immortal patriots, rise once more, 
Defend your rights, defend your shore! 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
Invade the shrine where sacred lies 
Of toil and blood, the well-earned prize, 
While off'ring peace, sincere and just, 
In Heaven's we place a manly trust, 
That truth and justice will prevail, 
And every scheme of bondage fail. 

Behold the chief who now commands, 
Once more to serve his country stands. 
The rock on which the storm will break, 
The rock on which the storm will break, 
But armed in virtue, firm, and true, 
His hopes are fixed on Heav'n and you. 
When hope was sinking in dismay, 
When glooms obscured Columbia's day, 
His steady mind, from changes free, 
Resolved on death or liberty.

"The Halcyon Days of Old England" 1778

Give ear to my song, I'll not tell you a story;
This is the bright era of Old England's glory!
And though some may think us in pitiful plight,
I'll swear they're mistaken, for matters go right!
Sing tantararara, wise all, wise all,
Sing tantararara, wise all.

Let us laugh at the cavils of weak, silly elves!
Our statesmen are wise men ! they say so themselves,
And tho' little mortals may hear it with wonder,
'Tis consummate wisdom, that causes each blunder!

They are now engaged in a glorious war!
It began about tea, about feathers and tar; 
With spirit they push what they've plannèd with sense! 
Forty-millions they've spent, for a tax of three pence.

The debts of the nation do grieve them so sore,
To lighten our burden, they load us the more!
They aim at th' American's cash, my dear honey!
Yet beggar this kingdom, and send them the money.

What honors we're gaining by taking their forts, 
Destroying bateaux, and blocking up ports!
Burgoyne would have work'd 'em but for a mishap,
By Gates and one Arnold, he's caught in a trap!

But Howe was more cautious and prudent by far,
He sail'd with his fleet up the great Delaware;
All summer he struggled and strove to undo 'em,
But the plague of it was, he could not get to them.

Oh ! think us not cruel, because our allies
Are savagely scalping men, women and boys!
Maternal affection to this step doth move us!
The more they are scalpèd, the more they will love us!

Some folks are uneasy, and make a great pother
For the loss of one army, and half of another;
But, sirs, next campaign by ten thousands we'll slay 'em, 
If we can find soldiers, and money to pay 'em.

I've sung you a song, now I'll give you a prayer;
May peace soon succeed to this horrible war !
Again may we live with our brethren in concord,
And the authors of mischief all hang on a strong cord. 
Sing tantararara, wise all, wise all,
Sing tantararara, wise all.

"The Harriott"

"The Heads, or the Year 1776"

("Derry Down")

YE wrong heads, and strong heads attend to my strains;
Ye clear heads, and queer heads, and heads without brains;
Ye thick skulls, and quick skulls, and heads great and small;
And ye heads that aspire to be heads over all.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Ye ladies - I would not offend for the world,
Whose bright heads, and light heads, are feather'd and curl'd;
The mighty dimensions dame Nature surprise,
To find she'd so grossly mistaken the size.

And ye petit-maitres, your heads I might spare,
Encumber'd with nothing - but powder and hair;
Who vainly disgrace the true monkey race,
By transplanting the tail from its own native place.

Enough might be said, durst I venture my rhymes,
On crown'd heads, and round heads, of these modern times;
This slippery path let me cautiously tread -
The neck else may answer, perhaps, for the head.

The heads of the church, and the heads of the state,
Have taught much, and wrought much, - too much to repeat;
On the neck of corruption uplifted, 'tis said,
Some rulers, alas ! are too high by the head.

Ye schemers and dreamers of politic things,
Projecting the downfall of kingdoms and kings;
Can your wisdom declare how this body is fed,
When the members rebel and wage war with the head?

Expounders, confounders, and heads of the law,
I bring case in point, do not point out a flaw;
If reason is treason, what plea shall I plead?
To your chief I appeal - for your chief has a head.

On Britannia's bosom sweet Liberty smil'd,
The parent grew strong while she foster'd the child, 
Neglecting her offspring, a fever she bred,
Which contracted her limbs, and distracted her head.

Ye learnèd state doctors, your labors are vain, 
Proceeding by bleeding to settle her brain;
Much less can your art the lost members restore, 
Amputation must follow - perhaps something more.

Pale Goddess of Whim ! when with cheeks lean or full,
Thy influence seizes an Englishman's skull,
He blunders, yet wonders his schemes ever fail,
Tho' often mistaking the head for the tail.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

"Hearts of Oak" 1759

Come cheer up my lads, 

It's to glory we steer, 

To add something more 

To this wonderful year. 

To honor we call you, 

As free men, not slaves, 

For who are so free 

As the sons of the waves. 

Chorus: Heart of oak are our ships, 

Heart of oak are our men, 

We always are ready, 
Steady, boys, steady, 

We'll fight and we'll conquer, 
Again and again. 

Our worthy forefathers, 
Let's give them a cheer, 
To climates unknown 
Did courageously steer. 

Through oceans to deserts, 
For freedom they came, 
And dying, bequeathed us 
Their freedom and fame.

"Here's Health to the Company"


Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme 

Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine 

Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain 

For we may and might never all meet here again

CHORUS:  Here's a health to the company and one to my lass 

Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass 

Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain 

For we may and might never all meet here again

Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well 

Her style and her beauty, sure none can excel 

There's a smile upon her countenance as she sits on my knee 

Sure there's no one in in this wide world as happy as we

Our ship lies at harbor, she's ready to dock 

I hope she's safe landed without any shock 

If ever we should meet again by land or by sea 

I will always remember your kindness to me

"How Happy the Soldier"

How happy the soldier who lives on his pay,

And spends half a crown on six pence a day;

He fears neither justices, warrants nor bums,

But pays all his debts with a roll of the drums,

CHORUS: With a row de dow,

Row de dow, Row de dow,

And he pays all his debts with a roll of his drums.

He cares not a Marnedy how the world goes;

His King finds his quarters, and money and clothes;

He laughs at all sorrow whenever it comes,

And rattles away with the roll of the drums.


The drum is his glory, his joy and delight,
It leads him to pleasure as well as to fight;
No girl, when she hears it, though ever so glum,
But packs up her tatters, and follows the drum.


"How Stands the Glass Around"

("Why, Soldiers, Why?")


How stands the glass around?

For shame you take no care, my boys,

How stands the glass around?

Let wine and mirth abound;

The trumpet sound,

The colors they do fly my boys;

To fight, kill or wound;

As you would be found,

Contented with hard fare, my boys

On the cold ground

O why, soldiers why?

O why should we be melancholy boys,

O why soldiers why?
Whose bus'ness is to die;
What? sighing? Fye!
Drink on, drown fear, be jolly boys;
'Tis he, you or I, wet, hot, cold or dry;
We're always bound to follow boys,
And scorn to fly.

'Tis but vain;
I mean not to upbraid you boys,
'Tis but vain;
For a soldier to complain;
Should next campaign,
Send us to him that made us boys;
We're free from pain,
But should we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cures all again.

"A Hymn on Peace"
by Abraham Wood

by William Billings

Freemen! if you pant for glory,

If you sigh to live in story,

If you burn with patriot zeal;

Seize this bright auspicious hour,

Chase those venal tools of power,

Who subvert the public weal.

Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!

See Freedom her banner display,

Whilst glory and virtue your bosoms inspire,

Corruption's proud slaves shall with anguish retire.

Would traitors base with bribes beguile you,

Or with idiot scoffs revile you,

Ne'er your sacred trusts betray;
Hancock, Adams, nobly pleading,
Never from the truth receding,
Them, North's vengeance can't dismay.

See, their glorious path pursuing,
All Britannia's troops subduing,
Patriots whom no threats restrain.
Lawless tyrants all confounding,
Future times their praise resounding,
Shall their triumphs long maintain.

"In Freedom We're Born"
("Heart of Oak")

Come join hand in hand, brave Americans all, 

And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call; 

No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim, 

Or stain with dishonor America's name. 

Chorus: In Freedom we're born, and in freedom we'll live; 

Our purses are ready, 

Steady, friends, steady,

Not as slaves, but as freemen our money we'll give. 

Our worthy forefathers - let's give them a cheer, 

Thro' oceans to deserts, for freedom they came, 

And, Dying, bequeath'd us freedom and fame. 

Their generous bosoms all dangers despis'd, 
So highly, so wisely, their birthrights they priz'd; 
We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep, 
Nor frustrate their toils on the land or the deep. 

The Tree, their own hands had to Liberty rear'd, 
They lived to behold growing strong and rever'd; 
With transport then cried, "Now our wishes we gain,
For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain." 

How sweet are the labors that freemen endure, 
That they shall enjoy the profit, secure, 
No more such sweet labors Americans know, 
If Britons shall reap what Americans sow. 

Swarms of placemen and pensioners soon will appear, 
Like locusts deforming the charms of the year: 
Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend, 
If we are to drudge for what others shall spend. 

Then join hand in hand brave Americans all, 
By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall; 
In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed, 
For Heaven approves of each generous deed. 

All ages shall speak with amaze and applause, 
Of the courage we'll show in support of our laws; 
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain, 
For shame is to freedom more dreadful than pain. 

This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health, 
And this for Britannia's glory and wealth; 
That wealth, and that glory immortal may be, 
If she is but just, and we are but free.

"The Irishman's Epistle" 1775
("Epistle To The Troops In Boston")


By my faith, but I think ye're all makers of bulls,

With your brains in your breeches, your --- in your skulls,

Get home with your muskets, and put up your swords,

And look in your books for the meaning of words.

You see now, my honies, how much your mistaken,

For Concord by discord can never be beaten.

How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright,
And thought to be-frighten the folks with the sight;
But when you got there how they powder'd your pums, 

And all the way home how they pepper'd your,

And is it not, honeys, a comical crack,

To be proud in the face, and be shot in the back.

How come ye to think, now,
They did not know how, 

To be after their firelocks as smartly as you?

Why, you see now, my honies, 

'Tis nothing at all,
But to pull at the trigger, and pop goes the ball.

And what have you got now with all your designing,

But a town without victuals to sit down and dine in;

And to look on the ground like a parcel of noodles,

And sing, how the Yankees have beaten the Doodles. 
I'm sure if you're wise you'll make peace for a dinner, 
For fighting and fasting will soon make ye thinner.