In vain they fought, in vain they fled; Brave St. Clair, when he first retired, His conduct have defended. Thus may America's brave sons And be the fate of all her foes The same as here recorded. SAID THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG. [McCarty's National Song Book.] AID Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in review, These rebels their course very quickly will rue, And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew, And we soon will make them feel- That a loyal Briton's arm, and a loyal Briton's steel, Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys! As to Sa-ra-tog' he came, thinking how to jo the game, He began to see the grubs, in the branches of his fame, 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-o-o-o, boys! YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION TO RHODE ISLAND. A 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, Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup So Yankee Doodle did forget The sound of British drum, sir, He took his wallet on his back, In dread array their tattered crew 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 thought, A plenteous store they therefore brought They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak, And take him prisoner in a week, But that was all my eye, sir. As Jonathan so much desired D'Estaing with politesse retired, He left him what was better yet, To stay, unless he ruled the sea, He thought would not be right, sir, And Continental troops, said he, On islands should not fight, sir, Another cause with these combined, VOL. III.-23 A FABLE. [Rivington's Royal Gazette. 1778.] REJOICE, Americans, rejoice! Praise ye the Lord with heart and voice! But when your joy gives way to reason, Tired out with happiness, the frogs Sedition croaked through all their bogs; Made out their melancholy case. "Famed, as we are, for faith and prayer, But can we think great good was meant us, "Which numbers crushed they fell upon, "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! |