University of Virginia Library

We 're a vast people—that 's beyond a doubt—
And nothing loath to let the secret out!
Vain were his labors who should now begin
To stop our growth, or fence the country in!
Let the bold sceptic who denies our worth
Just hear it proved on any ‘Glorious Fourth,’
When patriot tongues the thrilling tale rehearse
In grand orations, or resounding verse;
When poor John Bull beholds his navies sink
Before the blast, in swelling floods of ink,
And vents his wrath till all around is blue,
To see his armies yearly flogged anew;
While honest Dutchmen, round the speaker's stand,
Forget, for once, their dearer father-land,
And thrifty Caledonians bless the fate
That gives them freedom at so cheap a rate,
And a clear right to celebrate the day,
And not a baubee for the boon to pay;
And Gallia's children prudently relieve
Their bursting bosoms, with as loud a ‘vive’
For ‘L'Amérique,’ as when their voices swell
With equal glory for ‘la bagatelle;’
And ardent sons of Erin's blessèd Isle
Grow patriotic in the Celtic style,
And, all for friendship, bruise each other's eyes,
As when Saint Patrick claims the sacrifice;
While thronging Yankees, all intent to hear,
As if the speaker were an auctioneer,
Swell with the theme, till every mother's son
Feels all his country's magnitude his own!

You'll hear about that sturdy little flock
Who landed once on Plymouth's barren rock,
Daring the dangers of the angry main,
For civil freedom and for godly gain;
An honest, frugal, hardy, dauntless band,
Who sought a refuge in this Western land,
Where—(if their own quaint language I may use
That carried back the first Colonial news)—
‘Where all the saints may worship as they wish,
And catch abundance of the finest fish!’

You'll hear, amazed, the hardships they endured,
To what untold privations were inured,—
What wondrous feats of stout, herculean toil,
Ere they subdued the savage and the soil,
And drave, at last, the intruding heathen out,
Till Witches, Quakers, all were put to rout!