Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Music of Early America Part 7 (Revolutionary War T-Y)

The Music of Early America Part 7

(Revolutionary War T-Y)

"Taxation of America" 1765
("American Taxation by Peter St. John" or "British Grenadiers")


While I relate my story, Americans give ear; 

Of Britain's fading glory You presently shall hear;

I'll give a true relation, Attend to what I say 
Concerning the taxation Of North America.

The cruel lords of Britain, Who glory in their shame, 
The project they have hit on They joyfully proclaim;
'Tis what they're striving after Our right to take away, 
And rob us of our charter In North America.

There are two mighty speakers, Who rule in Parliament, 
Who ever have been seeking Some mischief to invent;
'Twas North, and Bute his father, The horrid plan did lay 
A mighty tax to gather In North America.

They searched the gloomy regions Of the infernal pit, 
To find among their legions One who excelled in wit;
To ask of him assistance, Or tell them how they may 
Subdue without resistance This North America.

Old Satan the arch traitor, Who rules the burning lake, 
Where his chief navigator, Resolved a voyage to take;
For the Britannic ocean He launches far away, 
To land he had no notion In North America,

He takes his seat in Britain, It was his soul's intent 
Great George's throne to sit on, And rule the Parliament;
His comrades were pursuing A diabolic way, 
For to complete the ruin Of North America.

He tried the art of magic To bring his schemes about, 
At length the gloomy project He artfully found out;
The plan was long indulged In a clandestine way, 
But lately was divulged In North America.

These subtle arch-combiners Addressed the British court, 
All three were undersigners Of this obscure report -
There is a pleasant landscape That lieth far away 
Beyond the wide Atlantic, In North America.

There is a wealthy people, Who sojourn in that land, 
Their churches all with steeples Most delicately stand;
Their houses like the gilly, Are painted red and gay: 
They flourish like the lily In North America.

Their land with milk and honey, Continually doth flow, 
The want of food or money They seldom ever know:
They heap up golden treasure, They have no debts to pay, 
They spend their time in pleasure In North America.

On turkeys, fowls and fishes, Most frequently they dine, 
With gold and silver dishes, Their tables always shine.
They crown their feasts with butter, They eat, and rise to play; 
In silks their ladies flutter, In North America.

With gold and silver laces They do themselves adorn, 
The rubies deck their faces, Refulgent as the morn!
Wine sparkles in their glasses, They spend each happy day 
In merriment and dances In North America,

Let not our suit affront you, When we address your throne, 
O King, this wealthy country And subjects are your own, 
And you, their rightful sovereign, They truly must obey, 
You have a right to govern This North America.

O King, you've heard the sequel Of what we now subscribe, 
Is it not just and equal To tax this wealthy tribe?
The question being asked, His majesty did say, 
My subjects shall be taxed In North America.

Invested with a warrant, My publicans shall go, 
The tenth of all their current They surely shall bestow;
If they indulge rebellion, Or from my precepts stray, 
I'll send my war battalion To North America.

I'll rally all my forces By water and by land, 
My light dragoons and horses Shall go at my command;
I'll burn both town and city, With smoke becloud the day, 
I'll show no human pity For North America.

Go on, my hearty soldiers, You need not fear of ill T
here's Hutchinson and Rogers, Their functions will fulfil-
They tell such ample stories, Believe them sure we may, 
One half of them are tories In North America.

My gallant ships are ready To waft you 'oer the flood, 
And in my cause be steady, Which is supremely good;
Go ravage, steal and plunder, And you shall have the prey 
They quickly will knock under In North America.

The laws I have enacted, I never will revoke, 
Although they are neglected, My fury to provoke.
I will forbear to flatter, I'll rule the mighty sway, 
I'll take away the charter From North America.

O George! you are distracted, You'll by experience find 
The laws you have enacted Are of the blackest kind.
I'll make a short digression, And tell you by the way, 
We fear not your oppression, In North America.

Our fathers were distressed, While in their native land; 
By tyrants were oppressed As we do understand;
For freedom and religion They were resolved to stray, 
And trace the desert regions Of North America.

Heaven was their sole protector While on the roaring tide, 
Kind fortune their director, And Providence their guide.
If I am not mistaken, About the first of May, 
This voyage was undertaken For North America.

If rightly I remember, This country to explore, 
They landed in November On Plymouth's desert shore.
The savages were nettled, With fear they fled away, 
So peaceably they settled In North America.

We are their bold descendants, For liberty we'll fight, 
The claim to independence We challenge as our right;
'Tis what kind Heaven gave us, Who can it take away. 
O, Heaven, sure will save us, In North America.

We never will knock under, O, George !, we do not fear 
The rattling of your thunder, Nor lightning of your spear:
Though rebels you declare us, We're strangers to dismay; 
Therefore you cannot scare us In North America.

To what you have commanded We never will consent, 
Although your troops are landed Upon our continent;
We'll take our swords and muskets, And march in dread array, 
And drive the British red-coats From North America.

We have a bold commander, Who fears not sword or gun, 
The second Alexander, His name is Washington.
His men are all collected, And ready for the fray, 
To fight they are directed For North America.

We've Greene and Gates and Putnam To manage in the field, 
A gallant train of footmen, Who'd rather die than yield;
A stately troop of horsemen Train'd in a martial way, 
For to augment our forces In North America.

Proud George, you are engagèd All in a dirty cause, 
A cruel war have wagèd Repugnant to all laws,
Go tell the savage nations You're crueler than they, 
To fight your own relations In North America.

Ten millions you've expended, And twice ten millions more; 
Our riches, you intended Should pay the mighty score.
Who now will stand your sponsor, Your charges to defray? 
For sure you cannot conquer This North America.

I'll tell you, George, in metre, If you'll attend awhile; 
We've forced your bold Sir Peter From Sullivan's fair isle.
At Monmouth, too, we gainèd The honors of the day 
The victory we obtainèd For North America.

Surely we were your betters Hard by the Brandywine; 
We laid him fast in fetters Whose name was John Burgoyne;
We made your Howe to tremble With terror and dismay; 
True heroes we resemble, In North America.

Confusion to the tories, That black infernal name 
In which Great Britain glories, For ever to her shame;
We'll send each foul revolter 
To smutty Africa, Or noose him in a halter, In North America.

A health to our brave footmen, Who handle sword and gun, 
To Greene and Gates and Putnam And conquering Washington;
Their names be wrote in letters Which never will decay, 
While sun and moon do glitter On North America.

Success unto our allies In Holland, France and Spain, 
Who man their ships and galleys, Our freedom to maintain;
May they subdue the rangers Of proud Britannia, 
And drive them from their anchors In North America.

Success unto the Congress Of these United States, 
Who glory in the conquests Of Washington and Gates;
To all, both land and seamen Who glory in the day 
When we shall all be freemen In North America.

Success to legislation, That rules with gentle hand, 
To trade and navigation, By water and by land.
May all with one opinion Our wholesome laws obey, 
Throughout this vast dominion Of North America.

"The Taxed Tea" 1773

("A New Song" or "A Tea Party Song")


As near beauteous Boston lying

On the gently swelling flood,

Without jack or pendant flying

Three ill-fated tea ships rode.

Just as glorious Sol was setting,

On the wharf a numerous crew

Sons of Freedom, fear forgetting

Suddenly appeared in view.

Armed with hammers, axe and chisels
Weapons new for warlike deed,
Towards the herbage-freighted vessels,
They approached with dreadful speed.
Quick as thought the ships were boarded,
Hatches burst and chests displayed;
Axes, hammers help afforded;
What a glorious crash they made.

Splash into the deep descended
Cursed weed of China's coast;
Thus at once our fears were ended;
British rights shall ne'er be lost.
Captains! Once more hoist your streamers
Spread your sails, and plough the wave,
Tell your masters they were dreamers,
When they thought to cheat the brave.

Illustration of the Boston Tea Party.
Credit: Mansell—Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
"Thanksgiving Hymn" 1783

The Lord above, in tender love, Hath sav'd us from our foes;
Through Washington the thing is done, The war is at a close.
America has won the day, Through Washington, our chief;
Come let's rejoice with heart and voice, And bid adieu to grief.

Now we have peace, and may increase In number, wealth, and arts;
If every one, like Washington, Will strive to do their parts.
Then let's agree, since we are free, All needless things to shun;
And lay aside all pomp and pride, Like our great Washington.

Use industry, and frugal be, Like Washington the brave;
So shall we see, 'twill easy be, Our country for to save,
From present wars and future foes, And all that we may fear;
While Washington, the great brave one, Shall as our chief appear.

Industry and frugality, Will all our taxes pay;
In virtuous ways, we'll spend our days, And for our rulers pray.
The Thirteen States, united sets, In Congress simply grand;
The Lord himself preserve their health, That they may rule the land.

Whilst every State, without its mate, Doth rule itself by laws,
Will sovereign be, and always free; To grieve there is no cause.
But all should try, both low and high, Our freedom to maintain;
Pray God to bless our grand Congress, And cease from every sin.

Then sure am I, true liberty Of every sort will thrive;
With one accord we'll praise the Lord, All glory to Him give.
To Whom all praise is due always, For He is all in all;
George Washington, that noble one, On His great name doth call.

Our Congress too, before they do, Acknowledge Him supreme;
Come let us all before Him fall, And glorify His name.

"Tea Tax"

I snum I am a Yankee lad, I guess I'll sing a ditty,

And if you do not relish it, the more will be the pity.

That is, I think I should have been a plaguey sight more finished, man,

If I'd been born in Boston town, but I warn't cause I'm a countryman.

CHORUS: Tol lol de ra, Ri tol de riddle iddle right tol de ra

And t'other day we Yankee folks were mad about the taxes

And so we went, like Indians dressed, to split tea chests with axes

I mean, t'was done in seventy-five, and we were real gritty

The mayor he would have led the gang, but Boston warn't a city.

Ye see we Yankees didn't care a pin for wealth or booty

And so in State Street we agreed we'd never pay the duty,

That is, in State Street 'twould have been, but 'twas King Street they called it then,
And tax on tea, it was so bad the women wouldn't scald it then.

To Charleston Bridge we all went down to see the thing corrected,
That is, we would have gone there, but the bridge it warn't erected.
The tea perhaps was very good, Bohea, Souchong or Hyson
But drinking tea it warn't the rage, tlne duty made it poison.

And then we went aboard the ships our vengeance to administer
And didn't care a tarnal curse for any king or minister;
We made a plaguey mess o'tea in one of the biggest dishes,
I mean, we steeped it in the sea and treated all the fishes.

And then you see we were all found out, a thing we hadn't dreaded,
The leaders were to London sent and instantly beheaded,
That is, I mean they would have been if ever they'd been taken,
But the leaders they were never cotch'd and so they saved their bacon.

Now Heaven bless the President and all this goodly nation
And doubly bless our Boston Mayor and all the corporation;
And may all those who are our foes, or at our praise have falter'd.
Soon have a change, that is I mean may all of them get haltered.

"The Times" 1776

My muse now thy aid and assistance we claim,
Whilst freedom, dear freedom, affords us a theme, 

Invok'd, be propitious, nor madly forbear,
When a theme that's so sacred should ring far and near.

Oh! let freedom, and friendship, for ever remain,
Nor that rascal draw breath, who would forge us a chain.

As our fathers have fought, and our grandfathers bled, 

And many a hero now sleeps with the dead;
Let us nobly defend, what they bravely maintain'd,
Nor suffer our sons to be fetter'd and chain'd.

The lion, the wolf, and the tiger may prey,
Each beast of the forest, though worse still than they, 

May be brought as examples, yet where can we find 
One so cruel, as sporting to kill their own kind.

Yet Briton's beware of the curse you maintain,
Your sons and your offspring we all still remain;
Behold the most savage, and there you may see,
Their offspring more tenderly treated than we.

Though our foes may look on, and our friends may admire,
How a BUTE or a NORTH, should set nations on fire,
Yet Satan, when suffer'd his madness to vent,
In meanest of mansions sure pitches his tent.

Shall freedom, that blessing sent down from above,
A manifest mark of God's wonderful love,
Be left at his will, who delights to annoy,
Whose pleasure is nought but to kill and destroy?

Forbid it, ye gods, who preside o'er the land!
Forbid it, ye genii, who rule with the wand!
Forbid it, ye heroes, whoever draws breath!
Nor dread, in the combat, to rush upon death.

May our King be as wise as we mortals expect;
Each rascal from council then boldly eject;
May his life be as good, and his reign be as great,
As ever was Solomon's wonderful state.

Then curs'd be the foes of our birthright so dear,
May they never find comfort or happiness here!
But vagabond-like, o'er the earth may they stray, 

Unshelter'd by night, and unfed through the day.

Let singular blessings America crown;
May the Congress be blest with immortal renown;
Each colony live in true sisterly peace,
Whilst harmony, honor, and riches increase.

Oh! let freedom and friendship for ever remain,
Nor that rascal draw breath, who would forge us a chain.

**In a version of this song, published in 1777, the following couplet is added:
"The times, it seems, are altered quite,
The scales are cracked, the sword is broke,
Right is now wrong, and wrong is right.
And justice is a standing joke."

"A Toast To Washington"
by Francis Hopkinson
Francis Hopkinson“The Toast,” 1778.
Manuscript songbook. Music Division, Library of Congress


‘Tis Washington’s health fill a bumper all round 

For he is our glory and pride, 

Our arms shall in battle with conquest be crown’d 

Whilst virtue and he’s on our side. 

Chorus: Shall in battle with conquest be crown’d 

Whilst virtue and he’s on our side 

And he’s on our side. 

‘Tis Washington’s Health loud cannons should roar, 
And trumpets the truth should proclaim, 
There cannot be found search all the world o’er, 
His equal in virtue and fame. 

‘Tis Washington’s Health our Hero to bless; 
May heaven look graciously down, 
Oh long may he live our hearts to possess, 
And freedom still call him her own.

"To Britain" 1777

Blush Britain! blush at thy inglorious war,
This civil contest, this ignoble jar;
Think how unjustly you've begun the fray,
With cruel measures rous'd America.

To arms: each swain must leave the peaceful field,
And 'gainst his brethren lift the sword and shield.
Their spacious commerce, now in ruin lies,
And thro' their land the hostile standard flies.

Britain, what laurel canst thou hope to gain?
Can any action give a hero fame?
In brother's blood our soldiers' hands imbru'd,
And barb'rous hostiles by our chiefs pursu'd.

Afflicting Britain, thus to spoil thy name,
Defeat's a scandal, conquest but a shame.
Our senators all lost in dire excess,
Lovers of pleasure, luxury, and dress.

Almighty ruler, stretch thy potent hand,
And o'er Britannia wave the olive wand;
Preserve our nation from th' impending fate,
Drive clouds of Scotchmen from the British state;
Fair peace descend, with all thy prosp'rous train,
And spread thy blessings o'er our spacious plain.

"To the Commons" 1776

(To the Commons on Meeting After the Recess)


With Christmas mirth, and Christmas cheer,

My friends pray look not glummer;

With turkey, chine, and beef and beer,

You're surely in-good humor.

The folks on t'other side the wave,

Have beef as well as you, sirs;

Some chines, and turkeys too, they have,
And as they bake they brew, sirs.

What, tho' your cannon raze their towns,
And tumble down their houses,
They'll fight like devils 1 - blood and 'oons,
For children and for spouses.

Another truth-nay, 'tis no boast,
Nor yet the lie o' th' day, sirs;
The saints on Massachusetts coast,
Gain if they run away, sirs.

For further than your bullets fly,
A common man may run, sirs,
And wheat will grow beneath the sky,
Where cannot reach a gun, sirs.

Then what are ships, and swords, and guns,
And men of bloody mind, sirs,
While, Parthian-like, who conquers runs,
Who loses, - stays behind, sirs.

Then rise my men, in merry mood,
Vote - nem-con-tra-di-cente,
That five and five for ten are good,
And ten and ten make twenty.

Recall your ships, your troops recall,
Let friends each other nourish,
So shall old England rule the ball,
And George and freedom flourish.

"To the Ladies" 1769

("To Our Ladies")

Young ladies in town, and those that live round,

Let a friend at this season advise you;

Since money's so scarce, and times growing worse,

Strange things may soon hap and surprise you.

First, then, throw aside your topknots of pride;

Wear none but your own country linen;

of economy boast, let your pride be the most

To show clothes of your own make and spinning. 

What if homespun they say is not quite so gay
As brocades, yet be not in a passion,
For when once it is known this is much worn in town,
One and all will cry out - 'Tis the fashion!

And, as one, all agree, that you'll not married be
To such as will wear London factory,
But at first sight refuse, tell 'em such you will choose
As encourage our own manufactory.

No more ribbons wear, nor in rich silks appear;
Love your country much better than fine things
Begin without passion, 'twill soon be the fashion
To grace your smooth locks with a twine string,

Throw aside your Bohea, and your Green Hyson tea,
And all things with a new-fashion duty;
Procure a good store of the choice Labrador,
For there'll soon be enough here to suit you.

These do without fear, and to all you'll appear,
Fair, charming, true, lovely and clever;
Though the times remain darkish, young men may be sparkish,
And love you much stronger than ever.

Then make yourselves easy, for no one will teaze ye,
Nor tax you, if chancing to sneer,
At the sense-ridden tools, who think us all fools;
But they'll find the reverse far and near.

"To Washington From the British Light Infantry" 1778


Great Washington, thou mighty son of Mars,

Thou thund'ring hero of the rebel wars!

Accept our thanks for all thy favors past;

Our special thanks await thee for the last.

Thy proclamation, timely to command

The cattle to be fatten'd round the land,

Bespeaks thy generosity, and shows
A charity that reaches to thy foes!

And was this order issued for our sakes,
To treat us with roast beef and savory steaks?
Or was it for thy rebel train intended?
Give 'em the hides, and let their shoes be mended;

Tho' shoes are what they seldom wear of late;
'Twould load their nimble feet with too much weight!
And for the beef - there needs no puffs about it;
In short, they must content themselves without it.

We, to reward you for your care and pains,
Will visit soon your crowded stalls and plains;
And for your pamper'd cattle write, at large,
With bloody bayonets, a full discharge.

We know that we light bobs are tough and hardy,
And at a push you'll never find us tardy,
We have a stomach both for beef and battle;
So, honest whigs, once more, feed well your cattle.

Obey your chiefs command, and then, 'tis plain,
We cannot want for beef the next campaign!
And if we want for fighting, be it known,
The fault, good neighbors, shall be your own!

"Tradesmen's Song for his Majesty's Birthday" 1777
("When Britain First at Heaven's Command")

Again, my social Friends, we meet

To celebrate our annual display

This great, this glorious Natal Day:

'Tis George's Natal Day we sing,

Our firm, our steady Friend and King.

For Britain's Parliament and Laws
He waves his own Imperial Power,
For this (Old England's glorious Cause)
May Heaven on him its blessings shower,
And Colonies, made happy, sing,
Great George their real friend and King.

Since Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the Azure Main,
Did ever o'er this jarring Land
A Monarch with more firmness reign?
Then to the Natal Day we'll sing,
Of George our sacred Friend and King.

To Charlotte fair, our matchless Queen,
To all his blooming heavenly Line,
To all their Family and Friends,
Let us in hearty chorus join,
And George's Natal Day let's sing,
Our gracious Father, Friend, and King.

And may the heavenly Powers combine,
While we with loyal hearts implore
That one of his most sacred Line
May rule these Realms till time's no more.
And we with chearful voices sing
Great George our steady, natal King.

"Virginia Banishing Tea" 1774


Begone, pernicious, baneful tea, 

With all Pandora's ills possessed, 

Hyson, no more beguiled by thee, 

My noble sons shall be oppressed. 

To Britain fly, where gold enslaves, 

And venal men their birth-right sell; 

Tell North and his bribed clan of knaves, 

Their bloody acts were made in hell. 

In Henry's reign those acts began, 

Which sacred rules of justice broke, 

Nortlt now pursues the hellish plan,. 
To fix on us his slavish yoke. 

But we oppose, and will be free, 
This great good cause we will defend: 
Nor bribe, nor Gage, nor North's decree, 
Shall make us "at his feet to bend." 

From Anglia's ancient sons we came; 
Those heroes who for freedom fought; 
In freedom's cause we'll march; their fame, 
By their example greatly taught. 

Our king we love, but North we hate, 
Nor will to him submission own; 
If death's our doom, we'll brave our fate, 
But pay allegiance to the throne. 

Then rouse, my sons! from slavery free 
Your suffering homes; from God's high wrath; 
Gird on your steel; give liberty 
To all who follow in our path.

"Volunteer Boys" 1780


Hence with the lover who sighs o'er his wine, 
Cloes and Phillises toasting,

Hence with the slave who will whimper and whine, 
Of ardor and constancy boasting.

Hence with love's joys, 
Follies and noise, 

The toast that I give is the Volunteer Boys.

Nobles and beauties and such common toasts, 
Those who admire may drink, sir;

Fill up the glass to the volunteer hosts, 
Who never from danger will shrink, sir.

Let mirth appear, 
Every heart cheer, 

The toast that I give is the brave volunteer.

Here's to the squire who goes to parade 
Here's to the citizen soldier;
Here's to the merchant who fights for his trade, 
Whom danger increasing makes bolder.
Let mirth appear, 
Union is here, 

The toast that I give is the brave volunteer.

Here's to the lawyer, who, leaving the bar, 
Hastens where honor doth lead, sir,
Changing the gown for the ensigns of war, 
The cause of his country to plead, sir.
Freedom appears, 
Every heart cheers, 

And calls for the health of the law volunteers.

Here's to the soldier, though batter'd in wars, 
And safe to his farm-house retir'd;
When called by his country, ne'er thinks of his scars, 
With ardor to join us inspir'd.
Bright fame appears, 
Trophies uprear, 

To veteran chiefs who became volunteers.

Here's to the farmer who dares to advance 
To harvests of honor with pleasure;
Who with a slave the most skillful in France, 
A sword for his country would measure.
Hence with cold fear, 
Heroes rise here; 

The ploughman is chang'd to the stout volunteer.

Here's to the peer, first in senate and field, 
Whose actions to titles add grace, sir;
Whose spirit undaunted would never yet yield 
To a foe, to a pension or place, sir.
Gratitude here,  
Toasts to the peer, 

Who adds to his titles, "the brave volunteer."

Thus the bold bands for old Jersey's defense, 
The muse hath with rapture review'd, sir;
With our volunteer boys, as our verses commence, 
With our volunteer boys they conclude, sir.
Discord or noise, 
Ne'er damp our joys, 

But health and success to the volunteer boys.

by Abraham Wood
The Death of General Warren at the Battle of Bunker Hill by John Trumbull

"War Song" 1776

Hark, hark, the sound of war is heard, 
And we must all attend;

Take up our arms and go with speed, 
Our country to defend.

Our parent state has turned our foe, 
Which fills our land with pain;

Her gallant ships, manned out for war, 
Come thundering o'er the main.

There's Carleton, Howe, and Clinton too. 
And many thousands more,

May cross the sea, but all in vain, 
Our rights we'll ne'er give o'er.

Our pleasant homes they do invade, 
Our property devour;

And all because we won't submit 
To their despotic power.

Then let us go against our foe, 
We'd better die than yield;
We and our sons are all undone, 
If Britain wins the field.

Tories may dream of future joys, 
But I am bold to say,
They'll find themselves bound fast in chains, 
If Britain wins the day.

Husbands must leave their loving wives, 
And sprightly youths attend,
Leave their sweethearts and risk their lives, 
Their country to defend.

May they be heroes in the field, 
Have heroes' fame in store;
We pray the Lord to be their shield, 
Where thundering cannons roar.

"Wat'ry God"


The Wat' ry God great Neptune lay In Dalliance soft and am'rous play

On Amphitrite's breast. 

When uproar reared its horrid head, The Tritons shrunk, the Neriads fled 
And all their fears con est.

Loud Thunder shook the vast Domain, The Liquid World was wrapt in Flame,
The God Amazed Spoke! 
Ye Winds, go forth and make it known Who dares to shake my Coral Throne, 
And fill my Realms with Smoke.

The Winds Obsequious, At his word sprung strongly up 
T' obey their Lord, And saw two Fleets aweigh; 
One, Victorious Hawke, was Thine, The other, Conflans' wretched Line, 
In terror and dismay.

Appalled, they view Britannia's Sons Deal Death and Slaughter from their guns,

And strike the dreadful Blow! 

Which caused ill fated Gallic Slaves To find a Tomb in briny waves, 
And sink to shades below.

With speed they fly, and tell their Chief That France was ruined past relief,
And Hawke triumphant rode; 
Hawke! cry'd the Fair, pray who is He, Who dared usurp this power at Sea, 
And thus insult a God?

The Winds reply, In distant Lands, There reigns a King, who Hawke Commands
He scorns all foreign Force;
And when his floating Castles roll From Sea to Sea, from Pole to Pole,
Great Hawke directs their Course.

Or when his winged Bullets fly To punish Fraud and Perfidy,
Or scourge a Guilty Land;
Then gallant Hawke serenely great Tho' Death and Horror round him wait,
Performs his dread Command.

Neptune with wonder heard the Story, Of George' s sway and Britain' s Glory,

Which Time shall ne'er subdue;

Boscawen's Deeds and Saunders' Fame, Joined with Wolfe's Immortal name,
Then cry'd Can this be true?

A King! He sure must be a God! Who has such Heroes at his Nod,
To Govern Earth and Sea;
I yield my Trident and my Crown, A Tribute due to such renown,
Great George shall rule for me.

"Wat'ry God (A Parody)"


As Mars, great god of battles! lay In dalliance soft and amorous play,

On fair Bellona' s breast;

Surprised he reared his hoary head, The conscious goddess shook with dread,

And all her fears confessed.

Loud thunder rolled through Heaven' s domain, The ethereal world was wrapt in flame,

The god amazed spoke:

Go forth, ye powers, and make it known, Who dares thus boldly shake my throne,
And fill my realms with smoke.

The gods, obsequious to his word, Sprang swiftly forth t'obey their lord,
And saw two hosts away;
The one, great Washington, was thine; The other, Howe' s disordered line,
In sorrow and dismay.

Appalled they viewed Columbia's sons, Deal death and slaughter from their guns,
And strike a dreadful blow,
Which made ill-fated British slaves, On distant shores to find their graves,
And sink to shades below.

Amazed they tell of battles won, That Britain's ruined; Washington
Alone triumphant rode;
Ha! cries fair, pray who is he That dares reverse e'en Jove's decree
And thus insult a god

The gods reply, In yonder lands, Great Liberty alone commands,
And gives the hero force;
And when his thundering cannon roar, And strike with dread earth's distant shore,
'Tis she directs their course

And when her winged bullets fly, To check a tyrant's treachery,
And lay his glories low;
Then Washington serenely great, Tho' death and carnage round him wait,
Performs the dreadful blow.

The god with wonder heard the story, Astonished viewed Columbia's glory,
Which time can ne'er subdue,
Great Warren's deed, and Gates's fame, Joined to great Lee's immortal name;
And cried, Can this be true?

Britain shall cease to plague mankind, With sister tyrants strive to bind,
And check the free-born soul;
To Washington her trophies yield, Freedom shall triumph in the field,
And rule from pole to pole.

"The Whig"


Would you know what a Whig is, and always was? 

I'll shew you his face, as it were in a glass. 

He's a rebel by nature, a villain in grain, 

A saint by profession, who never had grace. 

Cheating and lying are puny things; 

Rapine and plundering, venial sins; 

His great occupation is ruining nations, 

Subverting of Crowns and murdering Kings. 

To show that he came from a wight of worth, 

'Twas Lucifer's pride that first gave him birth; 

'Twas bloody Barbarity bore the elf; 

Ambition the midwife that brought him forth. 
Old Judas was tutor, until he grew big; 
Hypocrisy taught him to care not a fig 
For all that is sacred; and thus was created 
And brought in the world what we call a Whig. 

Spewed up among mortals by hellish jaws, 
To strike he begins at religion and laws; 
With pious inventions, and bloody intentions, 
And all for to bring in the good of the cause.
At cheating and lying he plays his game; 
Always dissembling, and never the same; 
Till he fills the whole nation with sins of damnation, 
Then goes to the devil, from whence he came. 

"When the King Enjoys His Own Again"

Let rogues and cheats prognosticate 
Concerning king's or kingdom's fate
I think myself to be as wise 
As he that gazeth on the skies

My sight goes beyond 
The depth of a pond

Or rivers in the greatest rain

Whereby I can tell 
That all will be well

When the King enjoys his own again

CHORUS: Yes, this I can tell
That all will be well

When the King enjoys his own again

There's neither Swallow, Dove, or Dade 
Can soar more high or deeper wade

Nor show a reason from the stars 
What causeth peace or civil wars

The man in the moon 
May wear out his shoon

By running after Charles his wain

But all's to no end, 
For the times will not mend

Till the King enjoys his own again


Full forty years this royal crown 
Hath been his father's and his own

And is there anyone but he 
That in the same should sharer be?

For better may 
The scepter sway

Than he that hath such right to reign?

Then let's hope for a peace, 
For the wars will not cease

Till the king enjoys his own again


Though for a time we see Whitehall 
With cobwebs hanging on the wall
Instead of gold and silver brave 
Which formerly was wont to have

With rich perfume 
In every room,

Delightful to that princely train

Yet the old again shall be 
When the time you see

That the King enjoys his own again


Then fears avaunt, upon the hill 
My hope shall cast her anchor still

Until I see some peaceful dove 
Bring home the branch I dearly love

Then will I wait 
Till the waters abate

Which now disturb my troubled brain

Then for ever rejoice, 
When I've heard the voice

That the King enjoys his own again


"The White Cockade"1796
("Lilli Burlero" or "The Ranting Highlandman")
Hat with a white cockade: 
Bonnie Prince Charlie

Prince Charles he is King James's son 
And from a royal line he sprung; 
Then up with shout, and out with blade, 
And we'll raise once more the white cockade. 
O! my dear, my fair-hair'd youth, 
Thou yet hast hearts of fire and truth; 
Then up with shout, and out with blade­
We'll raise once more the white cockade. 

My young men's hearts are dark with woe; 
On my virgins' cheeks the grief-drops flow; 
The sun scarce lights the sorrowing day, 
Since our rightful prince went far away. 
He's gone, the stranger holds his throne; 
The royal bird far off is flown;
But up with shout, and out with blade­
We'll stand or fall with the white cockade. 

No more the cuckoo hails the Spring, 
The woods no more with staunch hounds ring; 
The song from the glen so sweet before 
Is bush'd since Charles has left our shore. 
The Prince is gone, but he soon will come, 
With trumpet-sound and with beat of drum; 
Then up with the shout, and out with the blade 
Huzza for the right and the white cockade.

"The Wicked Rebels"

"The World Turned Upside Down" 1767 

("The Old Woman Taught Wisdom" or "Derry Down")

The World Turned Upside Down


Goody Bull and her daughter together fell out,
Both squabbled and wrangled and made a great rout!
But the cause of the quarrel remains to be told
Then lend both your ears and a tale I'll unfold.
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
Then lend both your ears and a tale I'll unfold.

The old lady, it seems, took a freak in her head
That her daughter, grown woman, might earn her own bread;
Self-applauding her scheme, she was ready to dance
But we're often too sanguine in what we advance.
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
But we're often too sanguine in what we advance.

For mark the event---thus for fortune we're crossed
Nor should people reckon without their good host.
The daughter was sulky and wouldn't come to
And pray what in this case could the old woman do?
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
And pray what in this case could the old woman do?

"Zounds! Neighbor," quoth Pitt. What the devil's the matter?
A man cannot rest in your home for your chatter."
"Alas!" cries the daughter, "here's dainty fine work
The old woman grows harder than Jew or than Turk!"
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
The old woman grows harder than Jew or than Turk!"

"She be damned!" says the farmer, and to her he goes,
First roars in her ears, then tweaks her old nose;
"Hello Goody, what ails you? Wake, woman I say,
I am come to make peace in this desperate fray."
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
"I am come to make peace in this desperate fray."

"Alas!" cries the old woman, "And must I comply?
But I'd rather submit than the hussy should die!"
"Pooh, prithee, be quiet, be friends and agree
You must surely be right if you're guided by me."
Derry down, down. Hey derry down
You must surely be right if you're guided by me."

From The Early American Songbook, Vinson.
A parody of the older World Turned Upside Down. Published in
Gentleman's Magazine (London) in 1767
Old Woman Taught Wisdom

Battle of Yorktown:
During the surrender ceremony of Cornwallis, the song,
The World Turned Upside Down was played – upside down for the British.

"Yankee Doodle"
Philip Dawe, The Macaroni. 
A Real Character at the Late Masquerade (1773)

Father and I went down to camp, 
Along with Captain Gooding, 
And there we see the men and boys 
As thick as hasty pudding. 

Chorus: Yankee Doodle, keep it up, 
Yankee Doodle Dandy, 
Mind the music and the step, 
And with the girls be handy. 

And there we see a thousand men 
As rich as Squire David; 
And what they wasted every day, 
I wish it could be saved. 

The 'lasses they eat every day, 
Would keep our house a Winter; 
They have so much that, I'll be bound, 
They eat it when they're mind ter. 

And there we see a swamping gun, 
Large as a log of maple, 
Upon a deuced little cart- 
A load for father's cattle. 

And every time they shoot it off, 
It takes a horn of powder, 
And makes a noise like father's gun, 
Only a nation louder. 

I went as nigh to one myself 
As Siah's underpinning; 
And father went as nigh again- 
I thought the deuce was in him. 

Cousin Simon grew so bold, 
I thought he would have cocked it; 
It scared me so I shrinked it off 
And hung by father's pocket. 

And Captain Davis had a gun, 
He kind of clapt his hand on't, 
And stuck a crooked stabbing iron 
Upon the little end on't. 

And there I seen a pumpkin shell 
As big as mother's basin; 
And every time they touched it off 
They scampered like the nation. 

I seen a little barrel, too, 
The heads were made of leather. 
They knocked upon't with little clubs, 
And called the folks together. 

And there was Captain Washington, 
And gentlefolks about him; 
They say he's grown so tarnal proud 
He will not ride without 'em. 

He got him in his meeting clothes 
Upon a slapping stallion; 
He set the world along in rows 
In hundreds and in millions. 

The flaming ribbons in his hat, 
They looked so tearing fine, ah! 
I wanted pokily to get 
To give to my Jemimah. 

I see another snarl of men, 
A-digging graves, they told me, 
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep 
They 'tended they should hold me. 

But I can't tell you half I see, 
They kept up such a smother, 
So I took my hat off-made a bow, 
And scampered home to mother.
"Yankee Doodle's Expedition to Rhode Island" 1778
("Expedition to Rhode Island")

FROM Lewis, Monsieur Gerard came,
To Congress in this town, sir,
They bow'd to him, and he to them,
And then they all sat down, sir.

Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup,
You shall bientot behold, sir;
This was believ'd as gospel true,
And Jonathan felt bold, sir.

So Yankee Doodle did forget
The sound of British drum, sir,
How oft it made him quake and sweat,
In spite of Yankee rum, sir.

He took his wallet on his back,
His rifle on his shoulder,
And veow'd Rhode Island to attack,
Before he was much older.

In dread array their tatter'd crew,
Advanc'd with colors spread, sir,
Their fifes played Yankee doodle, doo,
King Hancock at their head, sir.

What numbers bravely cross'd the seas,
I cannot well determine,
A swarm of rebels and of fleas,
And every other vermin.

Their mighty hearts might shrink they tho't,
For all flesh only grass is,
A plenteous store they therefore brought,
Of whiskey and molasses.

They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak,
So did their good ally, sir,
And take him pris'ner in a week,
But that was all my eye, sir.

As Jonathan so much desir'd
To shine in martial story,
D'Estaing with politesse retir'd,
To leave him all the glory.

He left him what was better yet,
At least it was more use, sir,
He left him for a quick retreat,
A very good excuse, sir.

To stay, unless he rul'd the sea,
He thought would not be right, sir,
And Continental troops, said he,
On islands should not fight, sir.

Another cause with these combin'd,
To throw him in the dumps, sir,
For Clinton's name alarmed his mind,
And made him stir his stumps, sir.

"The Yankee Man-of-War"

'Tis of a gallant Yankee ship That flew the stripes and stars,
And the whistling wind from the west nor'west Blew through the pitchpine spars,
With her starboard tacks aboard, my boys, She hung upon the gale; 

On an autumn night we raised the light On the old head of Kinsale.

It was a clear and cloudless night, And the wind blew steady and strong,
As fairly over the sparkling deep Our good ship bowled along;
With the foaming seas beneath her bow The fiery waves she spread,
And bending low her bosom of snow, She buried her lee, cat-head.

There was no talk of short'ning sail, by him who walked the poop,
And under the press of her pond'ring jib The boom bent like a hoop!
And the groaning waterways told the strain That held her stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he glanced aloft At a white and silv'ry track.

The nightly robes our good ship wore Were her own topsails three,
Her spanker and her standing jib, The courses being free;
Now lay aloft! my heroes bold, Let not a moment pass!
And royals and top gallant sails Were quickly on each mast.

What looms upon our starboard bow? What hangs upon the breeze?
'Tis time our good ship hauled her wind Abreast of the old saltee's.
For by her ponderous press of sail And by her escorts four,
We saw our morning visitor Was a British man-of-war.

Up spoke our noble captain then, And a short ahead of us passed,
Haul snug your flowing courses! Lay your topsail to the mast!
Those Englishmen gave three loud hurrahs From the deck of their covered ark
And we answered by a solid broadside From the deck of our patriot bark.

Out booms! Out booms! our skipper cried, Out booms! and give her sheet,
And the swiftest keel that ever was launched Shot ahead of the British fleet,
And amidst a thundering shower of shot With the stun-sails hoisting away,
Down the north channel Paul Jones did steer Just at the break of day.

"The Yankee Privateer"

Come listen and I'll tell you How first I went to sea,
To fight against the British And earn our liberty.
We shipped with Cap'n Whipple Who never knew a fear,
The Captain of the Providence, The Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: We sailed and sailed
And made good cheer,
There were many pretty men
On the Yankee Privateer.

The British Lord High Admiral He wished old Whipple harm,
He wrote that he would hang him At the end of his yard arm.
"My Lord," wrote Cap'n Whipple back,-- "It seems to me it's clear
That if you want to hang him, You must catch your privateer."

CHORUS: We sailed and we sailed
And made good cheer,
For not a British frigate
Could come near the Privateer.

We sailed to the south'ard, And nothing did we meet
Till we found three British frigates And their West Indian fleet.
Old Whipple shut our ports As he crawled up near,
And he sent us all below On the Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: So slowly he sailed
We dropped to the rear,
And not a soul suspected
The Yankee Privateer.

At night we put the lights out And forward we ran
And silently we boarded The biggest merchantman.
We knocked down the watch,-- And the lubbers shook for fear,
She's a prize without a shot, To the Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: We sent the prize north
While we lay near
And all day we slept
On the bold Privateer.

For ten nights we followed, And ere the moon rose,
Each night a prize we'd taken Beneath the lion's nose.
When the British looked to see Why their ships should disappear,
They found they had in convoy A Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: But we sailed and we sailed
And made good cheer!
Not a coward was on board
Of the Yankee Privateer.

The biggest British frigate Bore round to give us chase,
But though he was the fleeter Old Whipple wouldn't race
Till he'd raked her fore and aft, For the lubbers couldn't steer,
Then he showed them the heels Of the Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: Then we sailed and we sailed
And we made good cheer,
For not a British frigate
Could come near the Privateer.

Then northward we sailed To the town we all know,
And there lay our prizes, All anchored in a row;
And welcome were we To our friends so dear,
And we shared a million dollars On the bold Privateer.

CHORUS: We'd sailed and we'd sailed
And we made good cheer,
We had all full pockets
On the bold Privateer.

Then we each manned a ship And our sails we unfurled,
And we bore the Stars and Stripes O'er the oceans of the world,
From the proud flag of Britain We swept the seas clear,
And we earned our independence On the Yankee Privateer.

CHORUS: Then landsmen and sailors,
One more cheer!
Here is three times three
For the Yankee Privateer!

"The Yankee's Return from Camp" 1775
Young ladies in town, and those that live 'round
Wear none but your own country linen;
Of economy boast, let your pride be the most
To show clothes of your own make and spinnin'.
What if homespun, they say, be not quite as gay
As brocades. Be not in a passion
For once it is known 'tis much worn in town
One and all will cry out 'tis the fashion!

And as one all agree, that you'll not married be,
To such as will wear London factory;
But at first sight refuse, tell 'em you will choose,
As encourage our own manufactory.
No more ribbons wear, nor in rich silks appear,
Love your country much better than fine things,
Begin without passion, 'twill soon be the fashion,
To grace your smooth locks with a twine string.

Throw away your bohea, and your green hyson tea,
And all things of a new fashioned duty;
Get in a good store of the choice Labrador,
There'll soon he enough here to suit ye.
These do without fear and to all you'll appear,
Fair charming, true, lovely and clever,
Though the times remain darkish,
Young men will be sparkish,
And love you much stronger than ever.