The wind it being leading,

It bore us on our way, As far unto the southward

As the Gulf of Florida; Where we fell in with a British ship,

Bound homeward from the main ; We gave her two bow-chasers,

And she returned the same.

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Till British pride and glory

No longer dared to stay,
But cut the Yankee grapplings,

And quickly bore away.
Our case was not so desparate

As plainly might appear;
Yet sudden death did enter

On board our privateer. Mahoney, Crew, and Clemmons,

The valiant and the brave, Fell glorious in the contest,

And met a watery grave. Ten other men were wounded

Among our warlike crew, With them our noble captain,

To whom all praise is due; To him and all our officers

Let's give a hearty cheer; Success to fair America And our good privateer.

Cir. 1777.

We hauled up our courses,

And so prepared for fight;
The contest held four glasses,

Until the dusk of night;
Then having sprung our main-mast,

And had so large a sea,
We dropped astern and left our chase

Till the returning day. Next morn we fished our main-mast,

The ship still being nigh, All hands made for engaging

Our chance once more to try; But wind and sea being boisterous

Our cannon would not bear, We thought it quite imprudent

And so we left her there.

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50

A. BIRTHDAY SONG

Jonathan ODELL Composed at New York, in honour of the an. niversary of the King's birthday, June 4th, 1777: and printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for

60

that year.

We cruised to the eastward,

Near the coast of Portugal, In longitude of twenty-seven

We saw a lofty sail; We gave her chase, and soon perceived

She was a British snow Standing for fair America,

With troops for General Howe. Our captain did inspect her

With glasses, and he said,
"My boys, she means to fight us,

But be you not afraid;
All hands repair to quarters,

See everything is clear,
We'll give a broadside, my boys,

As soon as she comes near.'

Time was when America hallow'd the

morn On which the lov'd monarch of Britain

was born Hallow'd the day, and joyfully chanted

God save the King ! Then Aourish'd the blessings of freedom

and peace

crease.

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12

She was prepared with nettings,

And her men were well secured, And bore directly for us,

And put us close on board; When the cannon roared like thunder,

And the muskets fired amain, But soon we were along-side

And grappled to her chain. And now the scene it altered,

The cannon ceased to roar, We fought with swords and boarding

pikes One gladd or something more,

And plenty flow'd in with a yearly inProud of our lot we chanted merrily

Glory and joy crown the King ! With envy beheld by the nations around, We rapidly grew, nor was anything found Able to check our growth while we chanted

God save the King ! O blest beyond measure, had honour and

truth Still nursed in our hearts what they

planted in youth! Loyalty still had chanted merrily

Glory and joy crown the King ! But see! how rebellion has lifted her

head! How honour and truth are with loyalty

fled!

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20

Few are there now who join us in chant

ing

God save the King ! And see! how deluded the multitude fly To arm in a cause that is built on a lye! Yet are we proud to chant thus merrily

Glory and joy crown the King ! Though faction by falsehood awhile may

prevail ! And loyalty suffers a captive in jail; Britain is rouz'd, rebellion is falling :

God save the King! The captive shall soon be releas'd from

his chain : And conquest restore us to Britain again, Ever to join in chanting merrily, Glory and joy crown the King !

June 4, 1777.

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THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE When Jack the king's commander

Was going to his duty, Through all the crowd he smiled and

bowed To every blooming beauty. The city rung with feats he'd done

In Portugal and Flanders, And all the town thought he'd be crowned

The first of Alexanders.

A PASTORAL SONG

JOSEPH STANSBURY
When war with his bellowing sound

Pervades each once happy retreat
And friendship no longer is found

With those who her praises repeat; The good from the crowd may retire

And follow sweet peace to the grove Where virtue rekindles her fire

And raises an altar to love.

To such as stayed he offers made

Of "pardon on submission : But savage bands should waste the lands

Of all in opposition.”

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. Derry down, etc.

THE EPILOGUE Our farce is now finished, 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

Briton, Hath said that mankind are all players

at best, A truth we'll admit of, for the sake of

the jest. Derry down, etc. On this puny stage we have strutted our

hour, And have acted our parts to the best of

our power. That the farce has concluded not perfectly

well Was surely the fault of the Devil in Hell.

Derry down, etc.

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Good night, my good people, retire to

your houses, Fair ladies, I beg you convince your fair

spouses, That Britons and we are united in bliss, And ratify all with a conjugal kiss.

Derry down, etc.

Once more, here's a health to the King

and the Queen, Confusion to him who in rancor and

spleen,
Refuses to drink with an English friend,
Immutable amity to the world's end.
Derry down, etc.
A Broadside, Philadelphia and New

York, Oct. 24, 1778.
Rivington's Royal Gazette, Oct. 24,

1778.

This Devil, you know, out of spleen to

the church, Will often times 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. Derry down, etc.

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20

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.

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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 has 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 see a pumpkin shell

As big as mother's bason;
And every time they touched it off,

They scampered like the nation.
I see a little barrel too,

The heads were made of leather, They knocked upon 't with little clubs

And called the folks together.

From Lewis, Monsieur Gerard came,

To Congress in this town, sir, They bowed 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 believed 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 veowed Rhode Island to attack,

Before he was much older.
In dread array their tattered crew

Advanced with colors spread, sir, Their fifes played Yankee doodle, doo,

King Hancock at their head, sir.
What numbers bravely crossed the seas,

I can not well determine,
A swarm of rebels and of fleas,

And every other vermin.
Their mighty hearts might shrink they

thought, 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 prisoner in a week,

But that was all my eye, sir. As Jo athan so much desired

To shine in martial story, D'Estaing with politeness retired.,

To leave him all the glory.

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And there was Captain Washington,

And gentle folks about him, They say he's grown so tarnal proud

He will not ride without 'em.

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He got him on 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 pockily to get,

To give to my Jemimah.