University of Virginia Library

1  To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning      early;
Here's a good place at the corner — I must stand and      see the show.
2  Clear the way there, Jonathan!
Way for the President's marshal! Way for the gov-     ernment cannon!
Way for the Federal foot and dragoons — and the appa-     ritions copiously tumbling.
3  I love to look on the stars and stripes — I hope the fifes      will play Yankee Doodle.
4  How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost      troops!
Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through      Boston town.
5  A fog follows — antiques of the same come limping,
Some appear wooden      daged and bloodless.
6  Why this is indeed a show! It has call'd the dead      out of the earth!
The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see!
Phantoms! phantoms countless by flank and rear!
Cock'd hats of mothy mould! crutches made of mist!
Arms in slings ! old men leaning on young men's      shoulders!
7  What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all      this chattering of bare gums?
Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mistake      your crutches for fire-locks, and level them?
8   If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see      the President's marshal;
If you groan such groans you might balk the govern-     ment cannon.
9  For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those toss'd      arms, and let your white hair be;
Here gape your great grand-sons — their wives gaze at      them from the windows,
See how well-dress'd — see how orderly they conduct      themselves.
10  Worse and worse! Can't you stand it? Are you      retreating?
Is this hour with the living too dead for you?
11  Retreat then! Pell-mell!
To your graves! Back! back to the hills, old limpers!
I do not think you belong here, anyhow.
12  But there is one thing that belongs here — shall I      tell you what it is, gentlemen of Boston?
13  I will whisper it to the Mayor — he shall send a      committee to England;
They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a      cart to the royal vault — haste!
Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick from      the grave-clothes, box up his bones for a      journey;
Find a swift Yankee clipper — here is freight for you,      black-bellied clipper,
Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer      straight toward Boston bay.
14  Now call for the President's marshal again, bring      out the government cannon,
Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another      procession, guard it with foot and dragoons.
15   This centre-piece for them:
Look! all orderly citizens — look from the windows,      women!
16  The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs,      glue those that will not stay,
Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on      top of the skull.
17  You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown      is come to its own, and more than its own.
18  Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan — you      are a made man from this day;
You are mighty cute — and here is one of your      bargains.