Classic Poem

Britons grown big with pride
And wanton case,
And tyranny beside,
They sought to please
Their craving appetite,
They strove with all their might.
They vow'd to rise and fight,
To make us bow.

The plan they laid was deep
Even like hell;
With sympathy I weep,
While here I tell
Of that base murderous brood,
Void of the fear of God,
Who came to spill our blood
In our own land.

They bid their armies sail
Though billows roar,
And take the first fair gale
For Boston's shore;
They cross'd the Atlantic sea
A long and watery way,
Poor Boston fell a prey
To tyranny.
. . . . . . .

Gage was both base and mean,
He dare not fight,
The men he sent were seen
Like owls in night:
It was in Lexington
Where patriots' blood did run
Before the rising sun
In crimson gore.

Here sons of freedom fell
Rather than flee,
Unto those brutes of hell
They fell a prey;
But they shall live again,
Their names shall rise and reign
Among the noble slain
In all our land.

But oh! this cruel foe
Went on in haste,
To Concord they did go,
And there did waste
Some stores in their rage,
To gratify old Gage,
His name in every page
Shall be defam'd.

Their practice thus so base,
And murder too,
Rouz'd up the patriot race,
Who did pursue,
And put this foe to flight,
They could not bear the light,
Some rued the very night
They left their den.

And now this cruelty
Was spread abroad,
The sons of liberty
This act abhorr'd,
Their noble blood did boil,
Forgetting all the toil,
In troubles they could smile,
And went in haste.

Our army willingly
Did then engage,
To stop the cruelty
Of tyrants' rage!
They did not fear our foe,
But ready were to go,
And let the tyrants know
Whose sons they were.

But when old Gage did see
All us withstand,
And strive for liberty
Through all our land,
He strove with all his might,
For rage was his delight,
With fire he did fight,
A monster he.

On Charlestown he display'd
His fire abroad;
He it in ashes laid,
An act abhorr'd
By sons of liberty,
Who saw the flames on high
Piercing their native sky,
And now lies waste.

To Bunker-Hill they came
Most rapidly,
And many there were slain,
And there did die.
They call'd it bloody hill,
Altho' they gain'd their will
In triumph they were still,
'Cause of their slain.

Here sons of freedom fought
Right manfully,
A wonder here was wrought
Though some did die.
Here Warren bow'd to death,
His last expiring breath,
In language mild he saith,
Fight on, brave boys.

Oh! this did stain the pride
Of British troops,
They saw they were deny'd
Of their vain hopes
Of marching thro' our land,
When twice a feeble band,
Did fight and boldly stand
In our defence.

Brave Washington did come
To our relief;
He left his native home,
Filled with grief,
He did not covet gain,
The cause he would maintain
And die among the slain
Rather than flee.

His bosom glow'd with love
For liberty,
His passions much did move
To orphans' cry,
He let proud tyrants know,
How far their bounds should go
And then his bombs did throw
Into their den.

This frighted them full sore
When bombs were sent,
When cannon loud did roar
They left each tent:
Oh! thus did the tyrants fly,
Went precipitately,
Their shipping being nigh,
They sailed off.

And now Boston is free
From tyrants base,
The sons of liberty
Possess the place;
They now in safety dwell,
Free from those brutes of hell,
Their raptur'd tongues do tell
Their joys great.