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In vain they fought, in vain they fled;

Their chief, humane and tender,
To save the rest soon thought it best

His forces to surrender.

Brave St. Clair, when he first retired,

Knew what the fates portended;
And Arnold and heroic Gates

His conduct have defended.

Thus may America's brave sons

With honor be rewarded,
And be the fate of all her foes

The same as here recorded.


[McCarty's National Song Book.]

AID Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in review,

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys!
These rebels their course very quickly will rue,
And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew,

When him who is your leader they know, boys!

They with men have now to deal,

And we soon will make them feel

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys!
That a loyal Briton's arm, and a loyal Briton's steel,

Can put to flight a rebel, as quick as other foe, boys!

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys!

As to Sa-ra-tog' he came, thinking how to jo the game,

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! He began to see the grubs, in the branches of his fame, He began to have the trembles, lest a flash should be the flame

For which he had agreed his perfume to forego, boys!

No lack of skill, but fates,

Shall make us yield to Gates,

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! The devils may have leagued, as you know, with the States,

But we never will be beat by any mortal foe, boys!

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-0-0-0, boys!


(Tory Account of the unsuccessful attack on the British in Newport, July, 1778.

From Rivington's Gazette, 3 Oct., 1778.]
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 cannot well determine,
A swarm of rebels and of fleas,

And every other vermin.

Their mighty hearts might shrink they thoughty

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 Jonathan so much desired

To shine in martial story,
D'Estaing with politesse retired,

To leave him all the glory.

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“Great Jove," they croaked, “no longer fool us,
None but ourselves are fit to rule us;
We are too large, too free a nation,

To be encumbered with taxation!
VOL, II.-23

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