Songs of the American Revolution and New Nation

Patriot Lyrics

The Liberty Song 1768

Come join hand in hand, brave Americans all,

And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty’s call;

No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim,

Or stain with dishonor America’s name.

In freedom we’re born, and in freedom we’ll liver;

Our purses are ready,

Steady, Friends, steady;

Not as slaves, but as freemen our money we’ll give.

Our worthy forefathers - let’s give them a cheer -

To climates unknown did courageously steer;

Thro’oceans to deserts, for freedom they came,

And, dying, bequeth’d us their freedom and fame.

their generous bosoms all dangers despis’d,

So highly, so wisely, their brithrights they priz’d;

We’ll keep what they gave, we will piously keep,

Nor frustrate their toils on the land or the deep.

The Tree, their own hands to Liberty rear’d,

they lived to behold growing strong and rever’d;

With transport then cried, - “Now our wishes we gain,

For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain.”

How sweet are the labors that freemen endure,

That they shall enjoy all the profit, secure,-

No more such sweet labors Americans know,

If Britons shall reap what Americans sow.

Swarms of placemend and pensioners soon will appear,

Like locusts deforming the charms of the year:

Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend,

If we are to drudge for what others shall spend.

Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all,

By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall;

In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed,

For Heaven approves of each generous deed.

All ages shall speak with amaze and applause,

Of the courage we’ll show in support of our laws;

To die we can gear, - but to serve we disdain,

For shame is to freemen more dreadful than pain.

This bumper I crown for our sovereighn’s health,

And this for Britannia’s glory and wealth:

The wealth, and that glory immortal may be,

If she is but just, and we are but free.

In freedom we’re born.

Chester 1770

Let tyrants shake their iron rods,

and slav’ry clank her galling chains;

We fear them not, we trust in God -

New England’s god forever reigns.

Howe and Burgoyne and Clinton, too,

With Prescott and Cornwallis joined

Together plot our overthrow,

In one infernal league combined

When god inspired us for the fight,

Their ranks were broke, their lines were forced;

Their ships were shattered in our sight,

Or swiftly driven from our coast.

The foe comes on with houghty stride;

Our troops advance with martial noise;

Their veterans flee before our youth,

And generals yield to beardless boys.

What grateful offering shall we bring?

What shall we render to the Lord?

Loud hallelujahs let us sing,

And parise his name on every chord.

The Yankee’s Return from Camp 1778

Father and I wend down to camp,

Along with Captain Gooding,

And there we see the mend and boys,

As thick as hasty pudding.

CHORUS

Yankee Doodle, keep it up,

Yankee Doodle, dandy,

Mind the music and the step,

And with the girls be handy.

And there we see a thousand men,

As rich as ‘Squire David;

And what they wasted every day,

I wish it could be saved.

The ‘lasses they eat every day,

Would keep an house a winter;

They have as much that, I’ll be bound,

They eat it when they’re a mind to.

And there we see a swamping gun,

Large as a log of maple,

Upon a deuced little cart,

A load for father’s cattle.

And every time they shoot it off,

It takes a horn of powder,

And makes a noise like father’s gun,

Only a nation louder.

I went as nigh to one myself,

As Siah’s underpinning;

And father when as nigh again,

I tought the deuce was in him.

Cousin Simon grew so bold,

I thought he would cock’d it;

It scar’d me so, I shrink’d it off,

And hung by father’s pocket.

And Captain Davis hat a gun,

He kind of clapt his hand on’t,

And stuck a crooked stabbing iron

Upon the little end on’t.

And there I see a pumpkin shell

As big as mother’s basin;

And every time they touch’d it off,

They scamper’d like the nation.

I see a little barrel too,

The heads were made of leather,

They knock’d upon’t with little clubs,

And call’d the folks together.

And there was Captain Washington,

And gentlefolks about him,

They say he’s grown so tarnal proud,

He will not ride without’em.

He got him on his meeting clothes,

Upon a slapping stallion,

He set the world along in rows,

In hundreds and in millions.

The flaming ribbons in his hat,

They look’d so taring fine ah,

I wanted pockily to get,

To give to my Jemimah.

I see another snarl of men,

A digging graves, they told me,

So tarnal long, so tarnal deep,

They ‘tended they should hold me.

It scar’d me so, I hook’d it off,

Nor stop’d, as I remember,

Nor turn’d about, ‘till I got home,

Lock’d up in mother’s chamber.

The Public Spirit of the Women 1778

Though age at my elbow has taken his stand,

And Time has stretch’d o’er me his wrinkling hand;

Our patriot fair like a charm can inspire,

In three-score-and ten, twenty’s spirit and fire.