Page images
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

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.

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.

[blocks in formation]

40

50

60

70

80

We fought with swords and boarding pikes

One gladd or something more,

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.

A BIRTHDAY SONG

JONATHAN ODell

90

100

Cir. 1777.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

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.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

YANKEE DOODLE 1

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.

1 See "The Origin of Yankee Doodle," by

B. J. Lossing, Littell's Living Age (July, 1861). This gives the complete poem with its history and its ballad origins.

[blocks in formation]

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.

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

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION
TO RHODE ISLAND

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.

[ocr errors]

20

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »