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Their country to defend ;
From earth to heaven ascend.
Or vessels swim the sea ;
United, bless'd, and free.
90 ONCE MORE, FELLOW-FREEMEN.
Attune, then, your voices, the song raise on high,
And chant in full chorus the Fourth of July.
In shouts we'll proclaim it aloud to the sky,
And chant in full chorus the Fourth of July. See Jefferson's pen independence declare: Meanwhile to support it our forefathers swear; And Washington, prompt at his country's call, Unsheathed the fell falchion and urged the dread ball.
Then through the wide world let the glad tidings fly, Whilst we chant in full chorus the Fourth of July.
Lo! Freedom achieved by the feats of our sires,
Let the air loud resound with the rapturous cry,
While we chant in full chorus the Fourth of July. Cursed be the mad wretch that shall dare to destroy Our rights which from heaven's high God we enjoy; And blasted their schemes, whosoever shall strive The compact of union asunder to rive.
Our arms shall the arts of all tyrants defy,
And we'll force them to reverence the Fourth of July. All hail, then, the day of our national birth! Let the sound reach the most distant regions of earth; Proclaim to all nations how happy we be, That the people shall govern, and ever be free!
Our foes we'll confound with the o'erwhelming cry, And chant in full chorus the Fourth of July.
91 WHEN OUR GREAT SIRES.
Tune—“Rule, Britannia." When our great sires this land explored,
A shelter from tyrannic wrong!
They sung--and acted well the song,
In vain the region they would gain
In vain the Atlantic roar'd between;
And hosts of savages opposed;
And manly fortitude to bear;
Is always Heaven's peculiar care.
The dear-bought, rich inheritance ;
We'll fight, bleed, die, in its defence !
Till storms and thunder root it fast,
Till Britain roar'd her stormy blast; Then, see, they vanquish'd ! fierce led on By Freedom and great Washington.
BATTLE OF THE KEGS.
BY FRANCIS HOPKINSON, ESQ.
Trill forth harmonious ditty :
In Philadelphia city.
'Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising, A soldier stood on log of wood,
And saw a sight surprising.
As, in amaze, he stood to gaze,
The truth can't be denied, sirs; He spied a score-of kegs, or more,
Come floating down the tide, sirs.
A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,
The strange appearance viewing, First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise,
Then said, “Some mischief's brewing. “ These kegs now hold the rebels bold,
Pack'd up like pickled herring: And they're come down to attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying.
The soldier flew, the sailor, too,
And scared almost to death, sirs; Wore out their shoes to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sirs.
Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
Like men almost distracted.
Some fire cried, which some denied,
But said the earth had quaked ;
Ran through the town half-naked.
Sir William* he, snug as a fea,
Lay all this time a snoring,
In bed with Mrs. Loring.
Awaked by such a clatter:
6. For God's sake, what's the matter ?"
Sir Erskinet at command, sirs,
And tother in his hand, sirs.
6. The rebels-more's the pity-
And ranged before the city.
With Satan for their guide, sir ;
up in bags, or wooden kegs,
These kegs must all be routed;
And British courage doubted.”
All ranged in dread array, sirs ;
And make a bloody day, sirs.