540
BATTLE OF THE KEGS.
[Bk. III.
| Twas early day, as poets say, | Without a boat, are all afloat, |
| Just when the sun was rising, | And rang'd before the city. |
| A soldier stood, on a log of wood, | |
| And saw a thing surprising. | "Tis motley crew, in vessels new, |
| With Satan for their guide, sir, | |
| As in amaze he stood to gaze, | Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs, |
| The truth can't be denied, sir, | Come driving down the tide, sir. |
| He spied a score of kegs or more, | |
| Come floating down the tide, sir. | "Therefore prepare for bloody war; |
| These kegs must all be routed, | |
| A sailor, too, in jerkin blue, | Or surely we despis'd shall be, |
| This strange appearance viewing, | And British courage doubted." |
| First damned his eyes, in great surprise, | |
| Then said, "Some mischief's brewing. | The royal band, now ready stand, |
| All ranged in dread array, sir, | |
| "These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold, | With stomachs stout, to see it out, |
| Packed up like pickled herring, | And make a bloody day, sir. |
| And they're come down, t' attack the town, | |
| In this new way of ferrying." | The cannons roar from shore to shore, |
| The small arms make a rattle; | |
| The soldier flew, the sailor too, | Since wars began, I 'm sure no man |
| And scared almost to death, sir, | Ere saw so strange a battle. |
| Wore out their shoes to spread the news, | |
| And ran till out of breath, sir | The rebel dales, the rebel vales, |
| With rebel trees surrounded, | |
| Now up and down, throughout the town | The distant woods, the hills and floods, |
| Most frantic scenes were acted; | With rebel echoes sounded. |
| And some ran here, and others there, | |
| Like men almost distracted. | The fish below swam to and fro, |
| Attack'd from every quarter; | |
| Some fire cried, which some denied, | Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay |
| But said the earth had quakéd; | 'Mongst folks above the water. |
| And girls and boys, with hideous noise, | |
| Ran through the streets half naked. | The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made |
| Of rebel staves and hoops, sir, | |
| Sir William, he, snug as a flea, | Could not oppose their powerful foes, |
| Lay all this time a snoring; | The conquering British troops, sir. |
| Nor dreamed of harm, as he lay warm, | |
| In bed with Mrs. Loring. | From morn till night, these men of might |
| Displayed amazing courage; | |
| Now in a fright, he starts upright, | And when the sun was fairly down, |
| Awaked by such a clatter; | Retired to sup their porridge. |
| He rubs his eyes, and boldly cries, | |
| "For God's sake, what's the matter?" | An hundred men, with each a pen, |
| Or more, upon my word, sir, | |
| At his bed side, he then espied, | It is most true word be too few, |
| Sir Erskine at command, sir, | Their valor to record, sir. |
| Upon one foot he had one boot, | |
| And t'other in hand, sir. | Such feats did they perform that day, |
| Against those wicked kegs, sir, | |
| "Arise! arise! Sir Erskine cries, | That years to come, if they get home, |
| The rebels—more's the pity— | They'll make their boasts and brags, sir. |
END OF VOL. I.
