A Song, for the Fourth of July

When Freedom's sons, at Heav'n's command, Shook off the British nation, America did then assume An independent station. The Congress then were men of sense, And truly patriotic! They swore they would not pay their pence To any king despotic.

And this the law of seventy-fix, We swear each to maintain, sir, No such vile things, as lords or kings, Shall in America reign, sir.

The laws they made were quick obey'd, Whigs vied with whigs for glory; And Jack Burgoyne, like creeping Ned, Went home to tell his story. At Bunker's Hill—Howe had his fill, His troops were mow'd down, sir, While Gage, poor soul! who lov'd bones whole, 'Fraid to quit the town, sir. And this the law, &c.

Cornwallis next, like frighted mole, At York Town burrow'd deep, sir, But Washington, with bombs and gun, Soon rous'd him from his sleep, sir. He made them prance a Yankee dance, Whilst martial music sounded, Lay down their arms, five hundred score, By rebel troops surrounded. And this the law, &c.

Then straight they flew, to George their king, And told the doleful tale, sir, How th' rebels swarm'd throughout the land, And cover'd hill and dale, sir. His courtiers too, did round him throng, And all to make him easy; No consolation cou'd afford, Alas! it drove him crazy. And this the law, &c.

And now, behold! he's vengeful frown, Brimful of wrath and chagrin, Keeps western posts, and takes our ships, And won't stand to his bargain. Then let's unite, assert our right, Thrash his majestic back, sir, Starve all their isles, confound their wiles, And turn up t'other Jack, sir. And this the law, &c.

Whole hosts of priests and kings combin'd, (For their own preservation) With gogs and magogs, emp'ror too, A pretty combination! But Frenchmen they, march brisk away, And snoot, and flash, and score 'em, Ca ira sing, and Marsel'ois hymn, And bayonet all before them. And this the law, &c.

The Duke of York—light as a cork, Iu' letter to his pappy, "My grenadiers have beat monsieurs, And made me truly happy! Then papoy banish all your fears, I've made this protestation, To fight it out, and bring about Their total extirpation." And this the law, &c.

"Our loss is small, scarce none at all, Compar'd with th' en'mies losses, We've lost, big, little, great and small, Three men, two hundred horses. I cou'd do no less, than send express (For vict'ry always pleases) I've tak'n a town—it's all my own, The French call it—Landrecies. And this the law, &c.

In vain the lion boasts his strength, That none's so strong as he, sir, For now, behold! reverse of fate! Down his bended knee, sir. Thus fares it with those tyrant souls! Who th' rights of man oppose, sir, While 'gallic-cock pick'd out his eyes, The snapper pinn'd his nose, sir. And this the law, &c.

Prophets of old, have long foretold, And also Revelation, Most clear point out, beyond a doubt, Th' downfall of 'British nation. For their Alpha and Omega, Will sure come to an end soon, Give 'em a kick, and tell old Nick, "Take crazy George"—his grand-son.

And this the law of seventy-six, We swear each to maintain, sir! No such vile things, as lords or kings, Shall in America reign, sir.