| |
| OLD Neversink, with bonnet blue, | |
| The present times may surely rue | |
| When told what England means to do. | |
| |
| Where from the deep his head he rears | |
| The din of war salutes his ears, | 5 |
| That teased him not for thirty years. | |
| |
| With tents I see his mountain spread, | |
| The soldier to the summit led, | |
| And cannon planted on his head: | |
| |
| From Shrewsbury beach to Sandy Hook | 10 |
| The country has a martial look, | |
| And Quakers’ skulk in every nook.— | |
| |
| What shall be done in such a case?— | |
| We ask again with woeful face, | |
| To save the trade and guard the place? | 15 |
| |
| Where mounted guns the porte secure, | |
| The cannon at the embrasure, | |
| Will British fleets attempt to moor? | |
| |
| Their feelings are alive and sore | |
| For what they got at Baltimore, | 20 |
| When, with disgrace, they left the shore, | |
| |
| And will revenge it, if they can, | |
| On town and country, maid and man— | |
| And all they fear is Fulton’s plan; | |
| |
| Torpedoes planted in the deep, | 25 |
| Whose blast may put them all to sleep, | |
| Or ghostify them at a sweep. | |
| |
| Another scheme, entirely new, | |
| Is hammering on his anvil too, | |
| That frightens Christian, Turk, and Jew. | 30 |
| |
| A frigate meant to sail by steam!— | |
| How can she else but torture them, | |
| Be proof to all their fire and flame. | |
| |
| A feast she cooks for England’s sons | |
| Of scalded heads and broken bones | 35 |
| Discharged from iron-hearted guns. | |
| |
| Black Sam himself, before he died, | |
| Such suppers never did provide:— | |
| Such dinners roasted, boil’d, and fry’d. | |
| |
| To make a brief of all I said— | 40 |
| If to attack they change blockade | |
| Their godships will be well repaid | |
| |
| With water, scalding from the pot, | |
| With melted lead and flaming shot, | |
| With vollies of—I know not what, | 45 |
| |
| The British lads will be so treated: | |
| Their wooden walls will be so heated, | |
| Their ruin will be soon completed. | |
| |
| Our citizens shall stare and wonder— | |
| The Neversink repel their thunder | 50 |
| And Cockburn miss a handsome plunder. | |
| |
