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Revolutionary Songs and Ballads.

YANKEE DOODLE.

[“ The Yankee's Return from Camp.From a Collection made by Isaiah Thomas, 1813.)

,
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 an house a winter;
They have as much that, I'll be bound,

They eat it when they're a mind to.

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.

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[Written by Peter St. John, of Norwalk, Connecticut, in 1778.]

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 indulgèd

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 illThere's Hutchinson and Rogers,

Their functions will fulfilThey 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 o'er the flood, And in my cause be steady,

Which is supremely good;

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