Revolutionary Songs and Ballads. YANKEE DOODLE. ["The Yankee's Return from Camp." From a Collection made by Isaiah Thomas, 1813.] And there I see a pumpkin shell As big as mother's bason; I see a little barrel too, The heads were made of leather, And there was Captain Washington, He got him on his meeting clothes, He set the world along in rows, The flaming ribbons in his hat, I wanted pockily to get, To give to my Jemimah. I see another snarl of men A digging graves, they told me, So tarnal long, so tarnal deep, They 'tended they should hold me. It scared me so, I hooked it off, TAXATION OF AMERICA. [Written by Peter St John, of Norwalk, Connecticut, in 1778.] The cruel lords of Britain, 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 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, To land he had no notion In North America. He takes his seat in Britain, And rule the Parliament; A diabolic way, He tried the art of magic At length the gloomy project He artfully found out; The plan was long indulged In a clandestine way, But lately was divulgèd In North America. These subtle arch-combiners 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 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 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, Let not our suit affront you, O King, you've heard the sequel Of what we now subscribe: Is it not just and equal To tax this wealthy tribe? Invested with a warrant, Or from my precepts stray, 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 Which is supremely good; |